


To The Depths of the Skull's Maw

by eshcaine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Canon Fire, Carribbean Sea, Dean looks after his crew, Demons, Destiel - Freeform, Dueling, Epic Adventure on the Open Sea, Escape from the Gallows, Eventual Happy Ending, Frottage, Gay Sex, Grief/Mourning, Islands, Kidnapping, Linda Tran as Ching Shih, M/M, Mermaids, Minor Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Minor Jo Harvelle/Gabriel, Murder, Mysteries, Nassau, Panic, Pirates, Revenge, Sexual Content, Sunken Ships, Sunken Treasure, Talked about in passing only, The Flying Dutchman, The Impala as a pirate ship, The Red Flag Fleet, WIP, Zombies, dream walking, ghost ship - Freeform, mentions of John Winchester - Freeform, sex happens before love, spells, storm at sea, swashbuckling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-02-04 23:52:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 127,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1797910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eshcaine/pseuds/eshcaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel James Novak is Master and Commander aboard the HMS Seraph bound for Port Royal Jamaica on a direct mission for the King, when the frigate is stolen one night by the infamous Winchester Brothers and their crew…. </p><p>Pirates known for their reputation as a scourge on the Caribbean Sea. </p><p>Castiel finds himself caught up in a voyage of epic proportions as the Winchester brothers make off with the Seraph. They chase down a villainous murderer, hunt for a lost ship, and stumble across a mythical treasure from Imperial China.</p><p>Along the way Castiel learns that all is not what it appears to be, including himself.</p><p>(PLEASE READ TAGS)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <b>COMPLETED: February 17th, 2017</b><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

  


 

 

 

**_"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me._**

**_We extort and pilfer, we filch and sack._ **

**_Drink up me 'earties, yo ho._ **

**_Maraud and embezzle and even highjack._ **

**_Drink up me 'earties, yo ho."_ **

 

 

 

 

Castiel still couldn’t get used to the brilliant colour of azure that ran riot through the waters of the Caribbean. The bright aqua, the deep teals and the shimmering turquoise, all so far and away different from the somber English Channel and the hard darkness of the Atlantic Ocean at her center. Different than the slate blue rivers in England and the emerald ponds there, it was as if the Caribbean existed on a different plane. Like God had used a muted palette for everywhere else on Earth and had saved all the fierce intense colour for the islands.

And if the water was lovely, the sunsets over it were twice as breath taking.

Castiel was in the crow’s nest now, leaning easy on his elbows against its firm rail, watching the sun hover and sink down against the horizon. It cast a glittering shower of gold and magenta against the surface of the water. He wasn’t supposed to be up here, the duty beneath his status as a Commander of her Majesty’s Royal Navy, but he enjoyed the evening watch from this high up on the masts. He loved being close to the sky, up high in the air, the breeze in his face, caressing his hair like a lover. And the view was spectacular.

The ship he was assigned to, the HMS Seraph, was currently anchored in a small cove along a small Caribbean island. They had come to see if there were any fresh water sources and see about taking on any food they could forage. The Seraph was a small frigate, and while she still held enough in her stores to keep her crew fed, when one of the mates had spotted the island on the horizon, the Seraph’s Captain had decided it was worth it to weigh anchor and go ashore.

More than half the crew was now on shore, camping on the sandy stretches of beach rimming the cove. Small campfires were now dotting the sand, flickering light against the crew’s tents. The Captain’s tent among them.

Captain Zachariah Adler, Castiel’s current superior officer. Castiel found him an adequate officer, loyalty to King and Country unfailing, but lacking in any real rapport with the crew. Castiel on the other hand, had some how become the favoured officer with the crew, something he had difficulty comprehending. He wasn’t necessarily well skilled in social interaction, yet had managed to earn the crew’s trust and admiration.

Castiel smiled a little. Maybe it was his willingness to take on simple duties like crows nest watch. Maybe it wasn’t. He pushed it from his mind for now and instead brought his gaze up to the deepening evening sky above him. The scattering of the stars overhead were growing with each passing moment. Castiel let out a contented sigh and straightened. He leaned back against the thick wood of the mast tip and folded his arms over his chest.

An hour later, the sky was riddled with stars and the thin slice of the moon was daring to peek low on the horizon. Below Castiel, the crew had brought out a squeezebox and was singing out with merry little tunes from home. Their voices drifted up to meet Castiel’s ears as Castiel did a slow tight walk in the neat circle that made the crow’s nest. He let his eyes scan the island, it’s thick foliage almost jungle like, verdant and lush. The land rose in the center, high and hilly. It was guessed that it would take around four hours of walking to make it to the other side of the island, and at least eight hours if one were to walk from end to end. They had already found evidence of wild boar previously on their first reconnaissance of the island. The crew was excited at the possibility of bringing one down and roasting it open.

Castiel let his eyes linger over the crew one last time, then his turned his attention out over the water, keeping vigilant for other ships.

Their mission wasn’t a particularly dire one, and Castiel wasn’t sure why they had been assigned it in the first place. The Seraph was a 28 gun ship, and even though she was small, she had held her own in battles and skirmishes against the Spanish and those American upstarts. Castiel had been there for each and every one over the last six years. And now she was anchored in the balmy islands, sent to play escort for one of the East India Company’s merchant ships. They were to meet up with this ship in Port Royal, Jamaica, then babysit her as she came back to England.

Castiel felt it was a waste of the Seraph’s time.

But the King himself had said, “Go.” and Captain Adler had not only jumped at the assignment, he practically had danced a jig the whole trip across the Atlantic.

Castiel glanced back at where the crew’s tents were scattered on the beaches and decided perhaps the crew deserved a lighter assignment for once. It would be excellent for morale and it would be interesting to see all the new places, the islands, the bright waters of the Caribbean, before going back home to England. Slowly now, the crew’s camp fires were being doused as the crew settled in for the night. Castiel could make out the sentries posted on watch around the camp, and satisfied that they were on duty, he returned his gaze out over the ocean.

He bent down and gathered up the wool blanket that was kept up on the crow’s nest. He pulled it around his shoulders and briefly mused that leaving his coat down in his bunk was probably not wise. The day had been warm, but now the night air was chill. He tucked the blanket about him snug, and waited for the sunrise and his watch to be over.

  


 

 

 

 

Bright mossy green eyes full of mischief and excitement peered through parted lush leaves and watched as the crew of the anchored ship slowly fell asleep in their tents. Dean licked his lips and couldn’t suppress the grin dancing on his face. In the dark, only his eyes and his mouth could be seen. The rest of his face he had covered in a mix of mud, ash and charcoal. The paste was smeared everywhere his skin was visible, which was considerable at the moment. He was down to a light undershirt and his pants, lacking his boots or jacket, all so he could move quick and light for stealth.

Nearby, he could see the remains of his crew crouched and dressed in similar fashion. They had been marooned with him for their loyalty to him, and now, Heaven help him, he was going to get them off this damn island. He couldn’t believe the stroke of luck that dropped The Seraph within his grasp.

He signaled his crewmates silently and caught his Bosun’s, replying gesture. Benny Lafitte was a burly man with sharp icy eyes and an equally cool manner in situations like this. Dean had met him in New Orleans, half drunk, without purpose and nursing a broken heart. Since coming with Dean and his crew, that had changed. Now Benny was one of his most trusted crew.

Across the sands of the beach on the other end, what sounded like the high shrill call of an island bird sang out into the night air and it made Dean smile.

Sam was in position, giving off his signal.

Dean didn’t even need to signal the crew with him, he just slipped like a cat out onto the darkened beach, running in swift short steps as he ducked past one of the sentries. He glanced a look to see that sentry brought silently unconscious by Charlie, another of his crew. The red head was a crack at figuring locks, decoding ciphers, and at making potions and liquids of all kinds. The one she employed now, slathered liberally on the point of a thorn, had been used to prick the sentry’s skin and make him faint.

The soft noise of a muffled cry caught Dean’s attention and he looked the other direction to see Benny easing another sentry to the sand in a sleeper hold. He and Benny traded a nod and then both of them were slipping into the nearest tents to disable the sleeping crew within.

In less than five minutes, Dean and his crew of seven had trussed up and knocked unconscious the entire deployment of the Seraph’s crew there on the beach while barely making a sound. They moved them all into one tent, the tent belonging to the Captain, to keep an eye on them as they began the second part of their goal of stealing the Seraph.

Now Dean and Sam were regarding the ship itself from the slightly open flap on the Captain’s spacious tent.

“I say we take this tent Sam. It’s fricken’ huge….” Dean’s grin hadn’t dimmed in the slightest. It was a fair contrast to Sam’s current scowl.

Sam shot him a sour look that doubled the intent of his scowl, “Dean, we still have the crew on the ship to deal with. And we need to take down that watchman in the crow’s nest. If he has a musket or….”

Dean knew what Sam was implying. From that vantage if it was a decent rifle the man in the crow’s nest could have the sight and possible range to pick off his crew one by one as they tried to climb aboard the ship. It wasn’t a risk either brother wanted to take.

“Hey,” Dean turned to his crew who were rummaging through the weapons of the disabled sailor’s cache, “Anyone got any ideas how to take out the ‘Angel’ watching over us up there in that crow's nest?” He let his sarcasm drip over the word ‘Angel’.

His crew came one by one to peer out of the tent and look up. Benny, Charlie, Victor, Tamara, Jo, Garth. They each retreated back into the tent, some pairing off to whisper and discuss, and others to renew their inventory of the weaponry. At length Charlie and Tamara returned to Dean’s side.

“I can load a heavier dart with a sleeper salve that would knock him out cold….” Charlie began.

“And I can get it easy into his throat.” Tamara finished, and hefted a cross bow in her hands.

Dean smiled big. He loved it when he gave his crew free reign to indulge their skills and they came together like this. “Just as long as it leaves him alive. I can’t risk losing any of this crew yet.”

Benny looked Dean’s way, “Why are we sparing their lives brutha? Not like a Winchester to shy from drawin’ blood on an enemy. And I know what that ship’s crew did to your father, John.”

Dean lifted one brow and his smile slid off of his face, “We’ll need at least ten to sail that frigate. That means three hostages will be forced into service. But more than that, it’s because this _is_ the Seraph…” Dean emphasized the ship’s name. “Five years ago it was this very ship that captured my Father and hung him from the mast ‘til he choked.”

Sam was still looking out of the tent as he spoke, his voice quiet, “He was keel hauled before the hanging…..even.”

The rest of the crew bristled. Dean continued with a hard dark edge in his voice. “Someone on this crew gave the order. I mean to find that man and make him pay.”

  


 

_(to be continued)_


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Castiel awoke, groggy and feeling sluggish. And confused. He remembered being on watch up in the crow’s nest, and then feeling the bite of something sharp and painful at his neck. And now he was here in one of the berths in the brig. He brought his hand to his neck and felt bandages there, the wound beneath it tender still.

He sat up slowly on the berth he was in, and immediately someone was at his side. Castiel brought his aching head around to find Inias, the ship’s surgeon, kneeling next to the berth.

“Gentle, be gentle Commander. You’ve been wounded. I did what I could to tend it as you rested, but was not I who stitched it up….” Inias gestured to Castiel’s neck. “We have been over come by pirates….”

Castiel sat up fully then and saw he wasn’t alone with Inias in the brig. With them were Samandriel, one of the gunners, and Christoph, one of the new crewmates.

“Are you all unharmed?” Castiel looked to his crewmen with concern.

“Naught but a few bumps and bruises.” Samandriel answered.

“Excellent.” Castiel pulled himself to his feet and moved to the brig’s cell door.

The brig itself was a small room with three berths installed into the wall. At one end was the wall of the hull, and the other a simple iron barred cell door. Castiel leaned against this now and looked back at Innias.

“What happened? Where is the Captain?” Castiel looked down to see he was still in his pants and breeches from his watch, his coat and any insignia of his rank not on his person.

“The pirates, they were already on the island. They waited until all were asleep on the beach and then they snuck in, under cover of dark.” Inias stood. “I have never seen so few overwhelm so many so quickly.”

“The Captain was taken on the beach. And the ship has been moved, we are on open water now. I can feel it.” Samandriel placed his hand on his stomach.

Indeed Castiel could feel the slow roll of the ship now indicating they were moving and no longer anchored. So the pirates had taken the Seraph. Castiel considered how many crew might be left alive and if it was even possible to retake the ship. Perhaps the best course of action would be to rescue what crew he was able, and make it back to the island to wait for another of His Majesty’s Navy to come.

Castiel turned then and peered into the rest of the hold beyond brig. He let out a small sound of surprise at what met his eyes.

There was a young woman standing there, a loaded musket in either hand and she had a satisfied smirk on her face as she watched Castiel’s fellow crewmen gather at the door with equally astonished expressions.

“Well, look at the sleeping beauties all wakened from their slumber.” The young woman said playfully. She had quick eyes, and her sandy blonde hair was held back in a neat ponytail at the back of her neck. “Let’s be having your names and ranks now. Quick quick.”

Inias and Samandriel looked to Castiel to follow his lead, but the young Christoph instead answered with a slight crack their voice. “You’re a girl!”

The young woman bowed with a flourish, and her smile went wide. “Since I was born dear lad.”

“And a pirate as well?!” Christoph exclaimed, excited.

Castiel looked at the lad and frowned, about to tell the boy to be quiet and not engage their captors in frivolous banter when he stopped and took a long look now at him. The boy was pressed against the bars of the door, dark eyes wide with a joy Castiel suddenly understood.

Christoph was no lad. He was really a she, disguised as a boy. It happened now and then. Girls eager to follow in their sea faring father’s footsteps or to run from unfortunate home situations would steal aboard a ship and try to become part of the crew. Generally they were discovered and sent home, and put ashore. Never in his years in the Royal Navy had he found one to pass as a boy so easily. But with the crack in Christoph’s voice Castiel heard how she was trying to hide her real voice. He saw the extra padding she had used to hide her female curves, and the high collared clothing.

And the pirate before them saw it now too. “Oh ho! So we have some surprises still. My Captn’ will be merry with this news.”

Castiel whirled on the young woman, the pirate, just beyond the brig’s cell door, and with cold fury in his voice he said, “You’ll not lay a finger on my crewman.”

The pirate just laughed, “Fear not noble sailor. My Captain’s interest in her won’t be for her body. Tis’ not his way.” The pirate’s smile softened into something fond, “Not part of his code. But if the lass shows she is capable, and if she concedes, she may be free to join us.” Now the pirate was directing her gaze directly to Christoph, “My name is Joanna Beth Harvelle… you can call me Jo. Now… what’s your name luv?”

“Don’t… don’t give her any information.” Castiel turned to his crewmates and gently guided them away from the door. “The Harvelles are notorious pirates associated with the infamous bloody Winchesters. We must be strong, and stay calm. Do not give in to them, for any reason. I’m sure Captain Adler has plans to rescue us and….”

“Oh I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” Another voice was at the brig’s door now and Castiel turned to see it belonged to a tall imposing cut of a man. The man had long light brown hair, hazel eyes and held himself with a confidence not seen in many men his age. The man produced a set of keys and unlocked the brig’s door. He let it swing open, but his tall muscular body filled the opening. “You’ll be coming out one by one, and then I’ll be binding your arms behind your backs. You’ll be peaceable and easy, or I’ll let Jo here gift ye with a slug to your skulls.” The man stepped back and cleared the exit from the brig.

Castiel came out first and speared this man with the full force of his glare. He set his hands behind himself, crossing his wrists behind the swell of his backside. The tall man smiled with a roguish charm, dimples denting his cheeks. He turned Castiel around and then moved Castiel’s arms to bend at the elbows, so that his palms cupped at their crook. This pushed Castiel’s chest out and his shoulder’s back. The man wrapped and bound Castiel’s forearms tight together in this configuration and inwardly Castiel boiled. Had he been bound with his writs together he would have been able to work himself free. But like this, he was stuck.

The man bound Inias and Samandriel the same, but when Christoph came out, Jo held up one hand. “I’ll take this one Sam.”

Castiel couldn’t stop his eyes from darting to Sam. Could this be Samuel Winchester? This tall lanky young man with the face of a charming young minstrel? He barely looked twenty. Castiel felt his stomach sink. “Sam Winchester?!”

Sam nodded, giving Castiel a light frown. “Who asks?”

“This isn’t possible. Sam and Dean were pirating with John Winchester for over a decade before John’s execution….” Castiel’s eyes narrowed, “How can you be this young?”

Sam smiled again, but that easy charm was gone. Instead there was a dark sadness that hovered around his eyes. “Quite easily when you are brought to the life as a babe.”

Jo nodded that Christoph was ready and she began guiding the young crewmate past Sam, heading for the stairs that would lead them to the main deck. Sam nudged Samandriel and Innias to follow, but he held Castiel back a moment.

“My brother has your Captain hanging by his feet from the rigging. His death is upon him as we’ve been questioning him for quite some time now… while you and your crewmates were unconscious. The others we placed in the brig with you, they are our hostages and we’ll be taking them with us….. but you….” Sam paused and drew a wicked looking knife from his belt. It had a horn’s base for its grip and it was engraved with strange markings. Sam brought the bright edge of the blade to Castiel’s throat. “We’ve also been through the ship’s logs and the crew roster. We know names, ranks….” Sam leaned in a bit, narrowing his eyes, “The thing is…. The crew twas aboard this ship five years ago are all dead men as of this day. There are three still part of this crew. Your Captain, your Bosun, and this ships current Master and Commander.”

Castiel stiffened but he would not look away and his stare didn’t falter. He knew now what this was, what the Winchester’s wanted. Revenge for their father’s death. “Take your vengeance then and be done. But spare the rest of the crew. None of them were here, none of them had anything to do with it.”

Sam nodded and withdrew the blade. “We’ll see. We’ll see.” Then he marched Castiel up onto the main deck.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Captain Zachariah Adler was bound to the side rigging and half dead. He had been stripped of his uniform and left in his under clothes. Whip marks now covered his chest, arms, legs, face and neck. Several of them were deep gashes and they were bleeding out.

But Captain Adler was smiling.

“You’ll never get him now Dean. He’s long gone, untouchable by you, by me, by any ship… safe from even any King or Crown.” Adler was grinning bloody, spittle fizzing on his lips.

Dean was silent, a rock of ice simply standing next to Benny who was cradling a barbed whip. Benny was watching Dean, ready for his next command. There were footfalls coming up onto the deck behind them, and they moved their attention away from the dying Captain.

Sam and Jo had brought the remaining prisoners up from the brig. They corralled them over to where the Seraph’s Bosun was on his knees, trembling in fear having witnessed Captain Adler’s interrogation. Sam pressed each of the prisoners down to kneel as well. All of them looked frightened, anxious. All but one.

The last man held himself taut and unafraid, and his eyes were quickly taking in everything on the main deck…. His Captain’s predicament, the position of his crewmates, the number and position of the pirates, where the pirates weapons were on their person’s, everything. Dean narrowed his eyes, impressed. This man would be someone he would need to keep an eye on.

With that thought Dean took a moment and looked the man over thoroughly. He knew the man was the ship’s Commander, and it showed. The man was tall, his full shoulders were lean with wiry muscle and his thighs firm and fit. This man could hold his own in a fight easily Dean surmised. But then when the man lanced Dean with his unflinching gaze, Dean felt his heart stop. Here were the single most glorious set of eyes Dean had ever seen on another human. They were blue like secret sun dappled coves of Jamaica, like the sky when the wind was right and filling a ships sails fully, like the perfect sapphires Dean had once seen on a Hindu God’s statue. The rest of the man’s face was just a gorgeous with the rough dusting of scruff over his strong jaw. And Dean had seen that face before in the most unlikely of places. The knowledge left him with a chill rolling over his bones as heat rolled over his skin. Dean felt his gut tighten up and he was thankful of the sun burnishing his cheeks, hiding the warm patches blooming there.

Sam strode over to stand beside Dean, and he spoke aloud so everyone could hear him, “The Commander of this ship says we should let the rest of the crew go free.”

Dean raised his brows and then addressed Castiel directly, “Oh yea? And where do you suggest we put them?” Dean then gestured around them and Castiel followed the motion.

And suddenly Castiel’s heart sank. They were far out at sea, with the island nowhere in sight. His despair must have shown on his face because now his Captain was laughing in a high-pitched crazed way, and his Bosun was doubled over in tears.

Dean sauntered over to stand in front of Castiel, shading the Commander with his body and causing the sun to corona around Dean, “Castiel James Novak…. Master and Commander of the HMS Seraph. But five years ago you were just another Corporal, a mate, a low man new to the ship.”

Castiel swallowed. He might as well tell the tale. There was no shame in it, and it would give his soul peace after his death. But, he had other lives to concern himself with. “Yes. I was here, on the Seraph when your father was taken prisoner. I will tell you everything…. Everything that isn’t in the ships logs…. Just promise that Innias, Christoph and Samandriel will spared. Take them safe to the nearest port and let them go free. Swear this, and I will give you the information you seek.”

Dean leaned closer, and Castiel could see Dean’s eyes now that they were no longer shadowed by the sun. Castiel took in a quick breath. The pirate was beautiful. His eyes were jade and moss and spring green all at once. Flecks of amber and gold shot through the irises and Castiel had the fleeting notion that this is what a siren’s eyes would look like. Leading a stalwart sailor to their doom, but reveling in the glory of them all the same.

Those eyes were now locked onto Castiel’s mouth and for one moment Castiel thought the pirate meant to kiss him. The thought made a thrill race up Castiel’s spine and left him feeling confused and disoriented.

“That isn’t really my way Commander Novak.” Dean said softly. Then he withdrew away from Castiel and stepped back to look over the other prisoners. “Our code is thus. You will be given a choice. Join my crew and do a years stay with me, or we drop you off on the next isle we cross.” Dean drew his sword with a flare of drama and brought it to rest under Samandriel’s chin. “What be yer answer sailor?”

Samandriel swallowed nervously, “Join. I’m a gunner and will be of use to you manning these canons.”

“Stand then.” Dean lowered his sword and allowed Samandriel to rise. Once on his feet, Victor stepped forward to untie his arms and free Samandriel. “You’ll shadow Victor for now, but if you try to escape, or harrow us in any way, Victor has clear permission to end your life.”

Samandriel nodded and Victor led the young man away to see to the canons.

Then Dean turned to Inias, “And you?”

Inias looked more calm now, more assured and he stood before answering, meeting Dean’s gaze. “As a physician, I was pressed into joining the King’s Navy and I would be relieved to be free of it. I will give my service to you for one year Pirate, but then I insist on being free to go my way.”

“I accept your terms.” Dean waved over a thin lanky man who was now smiling at Innias. “This is Garth…. Garth will be keeping an eye on you… same as Victor and that other fellow. If you foul us, Garth will see that you pay.”

Inias looked incredulously from Dean to this cheerful happy-go-lucky looking man, but then decided it was better not to test this situation. After all, this man Garth served under the Winchester banner. He must have proven himself somehow.

Garth escorted Innias back below deck to his quarters and the infirmary.

This left Castiel, the Bosun and Christoph. No sooner had Dean turned to address Christoph, than the young mate was on their feet with a determined look in their eyes.

“I’ll join. And I’ll be glad of it.” Christoph spoke now in her normal female voice and once again Dean’s brows lifted.

“Will you now?” Dean couldn’t help the small smile now at his lips, enjoying the reveal of this girl who had hidden herself aboard a navy ship to seek her fortune at sea. He glanced over at the three ladies who were valued members of his crew before looking back at the girl. “What is your name sailor?”

“Christina…Christina Ronald.” She straightened at attention.

“Do you see those fair ladies there?” Dean pointed to Charlie, Tamara and Jo. Christina nodded her head in answer. Dean gestured to Charlie, “Charlie Bradbury… Sam and I help spring her from her imprisonment as she was waiting execution in the Carolinas under Governor Roman. We couldn’t bear for such an amazing sailor to be lost to the world. You’ll do well to learn from her.” Then Dean nodded to Tamara, “Tamara…. No steadier hands and no cleaner aim exists on the seas I am sure. She was a run away slave that Sam found hiding in New Orleans, and when she helped Sam and Benny and I escape a sticky cock-up there, we brought her along. She’ll teach you to shoot and to fight with blades.” Tamara gave them both a small smile before Dean turned his attention to Jo, “Jo Harvelle. Her father and mother sailed with my father, and like Sam and I, was raised on the high seas. Like Sam and I, this is her life. And like Garth and Victor, she’ll be the one to put you down if you turn on us…. got it?”

Christina gave a solemn nod before making her way to stand at Jo’s side. Jo, Christina and Charlie left then, going below and leaving the main deck.

Dean turned then and looked to the Seraph’s Bosun.

Under the weight of Dean’s gaze the Bosun crumbled, babbling about how he thought it was right and just to have done what they had done to John Winchester. That he was a pirate and that he had what was done coming to him. Then crazed he looked up at Dean and spat, “All pirates are scum, all deserve to rot in cages with bones picked clean by the crows!”

The man had barely finished his sentence and his head was lobbed clean from his neck. The gush of blood spraying from the body spurted in a hot fountain that splattered Castiel and Dean, as well as the man’s killer, Tamara. She had stepped up with frightening quickness and had severed the man’s head in one stroke. She held her drawn blade aloft, looking down at the man’s head now rocking to a halt at her feet. She spat at the head then spun on her heels to stalk off, her face hard but satisfied.

Dean sighed and looked down at his clothing, then he raised his eyes to look at Castiel. “Still willing to talk?”

Castiel looked at the body of the former Bosun and then looked down to the deck under his knees. He felt cold and shaken; the abrupt death of his former mate was shocking and jarring. His eyes tracked the blood pattern over his clothing and he squeezed his eyes closed. No words would come, even as Castiel’s mouth tried to move.

Dean sheathed his sword and bent down to help Castiel up onto his feet. He curled his arms around the man and glanced back at Sam and Benny. Sam gripped the Captain of the Seraph’s head in his hands as it sagged limp. The Captain had bled out, dead. They had gotten all the information they were going to from him now.

Dean hefted Castiel closer while he and Sam shared unspoken words between them. They had a crew, and a ship. They knew the name of the man who had sent John Winchester to his death, courtesy of the former Captain of the HMS Seraph. And they had Castiel Novak, who would give them the rest of the story after he got over the shock of the Bosun’s death.

“Soon Sam. Soon.” Dean assured his brother before he guided the stunned Castiel below deck to join the others.

 

(to be continued)


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

 

The former Captain Adler’s quarters were just as spacious as his tent had been. One entered the rooms near the port side of the ship, opening into a small but well-appointed area for strategic planning, discussion and other conferences. There was a map table and a large storage cabinet. Dean guessed that if he poked around in here he would find a lot of well kept map books that charted the world’s seas. It was in here that Garth had found all the crew listings, and the ship’s logs when they first made a search of the vessel.

Dean made his way with Castiel still leaning on him, past the map table and through a set of double doors that lead into the Captain’s office. In here was a large desk, a large chest, and a wall of shelves, drawers and cupboards. Several sported locks and Dean made a mental note to get Charlie down here to work her skills on them as soon as possible.

Dean brought Castiel across the office and in through the door on the other side which lead into the Captain’s private cabin. Here were two massive wardrobes, another chest, a large double bed covered in luxurious fabrics and past that, a bathing area. Dean shouldered Castiel over to the lidded chamber pot and sat the shaken Commander down on it. Next to that rested a basin and a porcelain pitcher for water. Behind Dean was an ample bathtub. Dean poured some of the water from the pitcher into the basin, and retrieved a cloth from the cupboard below it. He soaked the cloth in the water, and then set about wiping the splattered blood from Castiel’s arms and shirt.

Dean reached to wipe the blood from Castiel’s cheek, when suddenly Castiel was moving. In a blink of an eye Castiel had gripped Dean’s arm, twisted it and Dean around, and shoved Dean hard against the wood wall next to the basin. Castiel held Dean fast, his arm pinned awkwardly against his back, Dean’s face and chest pressed hard to the wall.

“Acting shocked at your mate’s death was just a ruse huh?” Dean grimaced, but his voice sounded amused.

“Not entirely.” Castiel admitted. However it had given him the perfect opportunity to try to escape these pirates now that he was alone with Dean.

Alone with Dean. Something deep inside Castiel shivered at that notion and he pushed harder against Dean, irritated that this man, this pirate, was having this kind of an affect on him.

Dean relaxed against Castiel’s hold and let his muscles soften, “Well played then Commander. But how do you expect to get past my crew? My Brother?”

Castiel felt along Dean’s side and drew Dean’s sword. “I believe I’ll manage.”

“And what then? Jump over board and swim?” Dean actually had the gall to chuckle now.

“Yes. I’m an excellent swimmer. I’ll make it back to the island where you left the rest of the crew….” Castiel hefted the sword with one hand and kept Dean held with the other.

Dean tried to look at Castiel over his shoulder, “You can’t be serious Novak. We’ve been at sea for two full days.”

Castiel froze. He thought they were only hours out from the island, not days! They would be miles away now. Swimming would be a death sentence. “I was unconscious for two days?!”

“Tamara is an excellent shot. We hit you with a potion that Charlie distills from plants and herbs. Knocks you out cold. You actually should have slept for another day since we used a double dose.” Dean smirked, “That you are up and fighting already is very impressive Commander.”

“What did you do to the rest of the crew?!” Castiel growled.

Dean grinned. He found he enjoyed the noise that was coming out of Castiel’s mouth. “Waved farewell as we left them on that beach. Don’t be cross Commander, we left them with supplies and knives. We were on that piece of land for months, there’s a fresh spring, lots of fruit trees and ample game. They’ll be fine.”

Castiel twisted the hilt of the sword in his hand. There was no way to be sure that Dean was telling him the truth, that the crew was left alive on the island. And how did he know that these pirates would keep their word and not harm Inias, Samandriel and Christop… Christina?

As Castiel’s mind worked things over, Dean relaxed completely, and quite abruptly. Dean slid down the wall to a crouch, pulled Castiel off balance and allowed Dean to twist around in Castiel’s hold. In one quick move Dean was free and launching himself at Castiel’s mid section. They tumbled to the floor, the impact knocking the wind out of Castiel’s chest and the sword from his hand.

Castiel found himself on his back, unarmed, with Dean seated directly on Castiel’s crotch. Dean’s arms held Castiel’s wrists pinned to the floor. Dean grinned and practically leered down at Castiel with smug triumph. Castiel swallowed the sound caught in his chest at their sudden switch in position.

“Yea, I like this a lot better….” Dean bent closer and huffed his breath against Castiel’s cheek, “Don’t you, Commander?”

“Blackbeard’s ghost! Dean!” Sam’s annoyed voice came from somewhere beyond Castiel’s line of sight. Dean merely smirked at Sam, then released Castiel and stood up.

Castiel hopped up from the floor, quite aware now that his cheeks were flush and not from the scuffle between himself and the pirate. His cock was warmed as well and Castiel fumed inwardly at how eager his body was under the pirate’s touch. He folded his arms over his chest and turned away from Dean and Sam, only to be confronted by the large expanse of the former Captain’s bed. The unbidden image of Dean stretched out flush and wanting for him on the bed blinked into Castiel’s mind and Castiel had to cover his face with his hand.

Behind him the brothers were speaking to each other in quiet tones. A moment later there were footsteps leaving the room, and then a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel turned to find Dean gone, and Sam letting his hand slip from Castiel’s shoulder back to Sam’s side.

“Dean and I request that you stay in here and not leave.” Sam said evenly, politely.

“This is to be my new prison cell then.” Castiel stated flatly. He gave a wave of his hand around him at the interior of the Captain’s quarters.

Sam ignored that and walked back into the Captain’s office, “We’d like you to go through Adler’s records and logs. Maybe the charts and maps as well.” Sam made his way over to the desk before stopping to bring his attention to Castiel, “When you were first onboard here, the Captain was a man named Grigori Brown, yes?”

Castiel joined Sam in the office, resigned now to giving the Winchester’s the information they were seeking. Maybe it would buy him some time to find a way to escape with Inias, Samandriel and Christina. Castiel leaned against one of the cupboards, resting the edge of his palms on one of its ledges as he crossed his ankles over each other.

“Captain Brown was the Captain of this ship then, yes. And as you have probably discovered, Adler was the Boatswain then.” Castiel raised his eyes to meet Sam’s, expecting Sam to be seated in the Captain’s desk chair.

Instead, Sam was looking out through the massive paned windows the stretched across the back of the ship, half in the Captain’s office and half in the private cabin chambers. “Adler confirmed that yes.”

“Mr. Winchester….” Castiel started, but Sam glanced at Castiel over his shoulder and shook his head, no, not to address him as that. “Sam…..” Castiel continued with Sam’s approval, “Please explain to me why you and your brother are so bent on revenge? Your father, John Winchester, came aboard this vessel under the cloak of night, snuck into this very cabin bent on slicing open Captain Brown’s throat. John was caught, simple as that. He was a wanted criminal on the open seas, sought after by His Majesty’s Navy. What else do you think would happen? That we would let him go?”

Sam turned around then, a bitter smile lacing his mouth, “It’s funny. Dean tried to talk him out of coming…. Tried to stop him. But Dad was determined. So sure he would succeed.”

“Succeed at what? Murdering Captain Brown?” Castiel’s brown knit up in a frown.

“Yes.” Sam said honestly.

Sam sighed, and when Castiel was left at a loss of words Sam continued. “When I was but six months small, a tiny babe, my mother Mary… Dean’s mother as well… was murdered. She was stabbed, gutted even, and then her body was set alight in fire. Our whole home burned. Was Dean himself only four years who carried me thus out of the house to safety.”

Castiel’s frown softened at hearing this tragedy.

“It made our father obsessed. John was bound and determined to find the fiend who had taken her life. He took to the seas with us in tow as he scoured the oceans in hunt of the man… the beast… what killed our Mary. He raised Dean and I on the high seas. On our ship, The Impala. Our whole existence bent on finding this man.” Sam took a moment to look about the cabin and carefully folded his arms over his chest. “The man who once used this cabin and was called Captain by this ship’s very crew.”

Castiel blinked wide eyed, “Captain Brown?!”

“The very one. John’s mission that night was to exact justice for Mary. To stop the beating heart of that… demon… who walked and talked like a man.” Sam’s eyes went hard and cold. “Instead Brown stopped my father, strung him up on ropes and dragged him under the ship until he was barely alive….. then finished the job by hanging him from the mizzenmast.”

Castiel looked away, a thousand things he had heard during that time now suddenly making sense. He pushed away from where he was rested, and paced around the office space carefully, talking aloud as he processed memories. “I didn’t understand Captain Brown’s taunting when he was hoisting John up to hang him. He kept telling John how ‘she’ had cried out John’s name, how ‘she’ wasn’t the only one to feel Captain Brown’s …gift? How he, Captain Brown, would keep giving these gifts to women and that no one would stop him.”

Castiel ceased pacing and looked at Sam, both of their faces pale. “Captain Brown’s gifts were death and fire. He basically confessed to murdering Mary and other women as well!” Castiel leaned hard on the Captain’s desk, gripping its edge now with white knuckled hands, “My God Sam…. Your father was trying to stop a monster.”

Castiel hung his head and his voice came out weak. “Sam, I…. had I known…”

“We have proof, Dean and I. But no court in England is interested in prosecuting one of their supposedly finest Naval officers. Especially for two Americans.” Sam spoke quietly.

Castiel lifted his head and looked at Sam, “Captain Brown is no longer part of the British Navy.”

“So he’s not on the Seraph because he was given a different command?” Sam leaned on the desk now as well, mirroring Castiel.

“No. He left his post… deserted. The Royal Navy wants him now too, as a traitor. He jumped ship three years ago.” Castiel slowly straightened to stand up, an odd look crossing his face. “Sam…..”

Sam titled his head and frowned, giving Castiel a curious look.

“Sam… I swear to you, I will make amends for allowing the travesty of your father’s death…” Castiel’s determination solidified in his expression.

“Commander Novak you didn’t know….” Sam offered.

“It is not of import.” Castiel raised his hand, his palm up. “What is… is that we find this abomination of a man and bring him to justice. You say you have proof?”

“Yes. Sworn statements placing Brown at several other murders, all women, all gutted, all burned. We even have a witness to one of his killings.” Sam gestured, upwards in a vague manner, towards the deck above them.

“Then I can lead you to Brown. I know what has become of him since he left his post.” Castiel’s gaze was fierce now.

“Please, do enlighten us Commander.” Dean’s voice came from the other doors to the conference and map chart room. He was leaning casually against the open door frame, his arms looped easily across his chest.

Castiel swallowed, his eyes still wide with determination. However, being caught off guard by Dean’s presence, Castiel’s ears went a little crimson at their tips. “Captain Brown left his command here on the Seraph to take up the Captaincy of the pirate vessel The Red Reaper.”

Sam and Dean both startled. “Brown is a pirate now?!”

Castiel nodded. “Yes. He calls himself Azazel.”

 

 

(to be continued)


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 

Castiel splashed water onto his face and then dabbed it gently away with a cloth. He adjusted the small mirror above the basin, before picking up the shaving lather mug and the brush next to it. He began to meticulously apply the shaving cream, frothing it up along his jaw as he went. When he tipped his chin up to cover his throat, he felt a set of firm hands slide down his shoulders and his back. Those hands smoothed over Castiel’s shirt as they worked their way around Castiel’s waist, caressing in easy strokes around his ribs, up along his lateral muscles, over his pectorals.

Green eyes peered at him over his shoulder, and Castiel held still as Dean curled up against Castiel’s back. Dean’s chin coming to rest on Castiel’s shoulder as Dean’s hands continued to explore over Castiel’s chest. No words were spoken, but their eyes remained caught by each other’s gaze. Dean fingered his way down Castiel’s abs, then one hand dipped the tips of it’s fingers into the top of Castiel’s breeches, while the other boldly came to press its heel to the stiffening shaft of Castiel’s cock. Castiel groaned and rocked forward into the pirate’s hand. He could feel Dean’s smile pressed into his shoulder now.

 

“More.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Castiel freed his hands to brace against the cabinet that held the basin as Dean squeezed with both hands to Castiel’s hip and to his shaft. Castiel could feel the growing length of Dean’s own cock, insistent against Castiel’s buttock. Castiel rocked back against it and another groan of want filled the air.

“Commander Novak?” Samadriel’s hesitant voice filled Castiel’s ears.

Castiel startled, then woke up.

He was face down in the Captain’s large bed, pillow gripped in his arms, the hot length of his aroused cock pressed into the mattress. He lifted his head and looked over at a sheepish Samandriel who was standing beside the bed with a questioning look.

Dean was not here. It had all been a dream.

Castiel made a small but frustrated noise and flopped back into the softness of the bed. Muffled he asked, “What is it crewman?”

“I’ve brought your breakfast Commander. And to tell you we should be near Tortuga by nightfall.” Samandriel’s tone then became more chipper, “I’ve been made Yeoman of the Powder Room and given charge of all the canon Sir.”

Castiel lifted up and looked at the excited expression on Samandriel’s face. The young man had been part of the Seraph’s crew for over a year, and Castiel was aware of his eagerness to work his way up in the ranks and over see the canons. “Congratulations… though as Yeoman on a stolen vessel of the crown it will not amount to much when His Majesty’s Navy finally catches us and slaps us in irons.”

To that Samandriel just smiled. “Should it come to that Sir, if I have had the opportunity to give the order to fire canon just once it will have been worth it.” And with a grin on his youthful face, Samandriel turned and left.

Castiel sank back into the bed once more. His erection was softening now, and he tossed the covers back away from his body. He rolled over and slid his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet coming to rest on the smooth wood of the floor. He looked around the empty room, then to the waiting basin in the bathing area.

A light tremble skittered through Castiel’s body at the memory of the dream. To have these thoughts and feelings for a known pirate, a deadly one, was a weakness Castiel wasn’t sure he could afford. He was an officer of the Crown. Was it not his duty to see these pirates caught and executed?

The image of Dean strung up as John Winchester had been hit Castiel’s mind and suddenly Castiel felt ill, queasy. He stood and made his way to the chamber pot but managed to not vomit up his empty stomach’s bile.

He sat roughly to the floor and took in a deep breath.

John Winchester had spent his whole existence just trying to hunt down a villainous murderer of women. He had not been the pirate Castiel was lead to believe he had been.

Could the same be true of Sam? Of Dean? Were they and their crew merely doing what they must to survive and to find the fiend and end his legacy of terror?

Everything Castiel had held to be just and true was now called into question.

He decided he would see what the next few days held. They were headed for Tortuga, a known fortress port not belonging to any country’s jurisdiction. Travelers, traders, merchants, privateers, buccaneers and pirates alike swarmed Torguga’s waters, unafraid of any Navy. Anything could happen in those waters. Castiel would watch and wait, and keep an eye on his remaining crew.

But if he needed, he would draw blood on the Winchesters. Of this is was sure.

 

 

 

 

 

That day Castiel came to learn many things.

 

One of them was that his crewmates were allowed to roam freely through the ship, and that they had been given weapons to hold and use. They had been allowed to use their former quarters if they so chose to, or they could select new ones as they saw fit. Castiel was told that his own quarters had been left untouched, and were waiting for him if he was to finally fully back the Winchesters and Dean as his new Captain.

Another thing Castiel learned was that Victor Hendrickson was the heir to a rum plantation on Jamaica and his family was all still there, healthy and sound. Victor had originally left home to become trained as a Pinkerton, to track down the lawless and bring them to justice. But when Victor had met the Winchesters, and had seen proof of Captain Brown’s hideous legacy, he had pledged his help right then and there.

Castiel learned that Tamara’s family were from Ethiopia, and that her parents had been taken by force and brought on slave vessels to America, but when she had turned eleven her mother had helped her escape to flee to New Orleans. She had found a place working as a scullery maid for a French land baron, and that the man’s son had taken a liking to her. But instead of romance, the son had decided to train her in the arts of marksmanship and in how to use a sword. The weapons of Gentlemen, as he had called it. He wanted to prove to his contemporaries that a woman of color could be just as formidable as any white landowner. It had gotten him lynched and hung from a tree in a swamp, bait for hungry gators. Tamara had fled and was seeking a new life when she saved Sam from some ugly business in New Orleans.

Castiel also learned that whatever it was that had happened in New Orleans to draw Tamara and Benny Laffite to the Winchester brother’s sides, none of the four would speak on it.

None of these things however astonished Castiel as much as what he had learned by going meticulously through former Captain Zachariah Adler’s locked records.

It had taken Charlie a mere twenty minutes to pick and unlock every secured space in the Captain’s office, in the map room and in the Captain’s private chambers. But it had taken Castiel the entire day to sort through everything.

He discovered that Captain Adler was on the payroll of a merchant named Crowley, one of the higher ups within the East India Company. He discovered that they were working with a band of privateers in Port Royal as well, and that they had secured some rare valuable Chinese goods that were to be brought to London and were to be shared with King George. There was an extensive letter from Crowley stating that he had secured insurance to keep them safe from someone he called ‘The Terror of the China Sea’.

Castiel read over this all and discerned that this cargo from China was what the Seraph was really being sent to guard and watch over when it left England.

He was in the midst of reading these letters when Sam entered the Captain’s office.

The last thing Castiel had learned that day was that in spite of Sam and Dean being raised out at sea all their lives, they were both exceptionally well educated. Both brothers could read and write in English and Latin. Sam knew Spanish and Dean knew French. Sam was currently trying to find ways to learn the writing of the Aztecs and the Mayans. They were both well read in literature, and Castiel learned that Dean had dabbled in studying Michelangelo’s various inventions.

Castiel of course had not found this out from Dean. He had learned these things from Sam as he would come in and check on Castiel throughout the day, and they would make conversation as Sam lingered.

Castiel learned that he enjoyed Sam’s company, and he was starting to see why this gentle giant of a man would instill such loyalty in his crew.

“Have you found anything else out about Captain Brown…. Azazel?” Sam had brought in an evening meal for Castiel. It was a tray of cheese, some sliced meats, an apple and some bread. He had also brought a bottle of wine and was uncorking it while he waited for Castiel’s answer.

“Not about him, no. But I did find some unsettling things about my former Captain.” Castiel handed Sam one of the letters after Sam set down the wine bottle. “It appears that he was in business with a member of the East India Company… highly unseemly for an officer of the Crown if you ask me….”

Sam glanced up from the letter, “So this is why the Seraph was here in the Caribbean? To bring this Crowley and his cargo back to London?”

“Yes. I’ve found schedules Captain Adler made… the Seraph was to rendezvous with Crowley’s ship ‘Cerberus’ in Port Royal, Jamaica at the end of this month.” Castiel pulled out a ledger to show to Sam. “What ever this was, the Bosun and I both were kept in the dark about it.”

“Isn’t that unusual…. Don’t Captains generally share this sort of information with their next in command?” Sam looked puzzled.

“They do. What concerns me ever more is that this cargo is to be brought directly to King George himself. And if it was for the Crown, why all the secrecy?” Castiel’s own frown now echoed Sam’s.

“What are you thinking Cas?” Sam leaned on the desk, his face genuine in his interest.

Castiel’s eyes blinked at the nickname.

Sam smiled shyly, “Sorry. Dean’s been using that in reference to you and I guess it’s just stuck.”

Castiel flushed a little. Dean had given him a nickname. Any other time someone had done that, it had infuriated Castiel. But now, suddenly, from the Winchesters it felt endearing. To hide his reaction he took up the wine bottle and swallowed a deep draught of it.

When he put it down he gave Sam a sidelong look. “What am I thinking about all of this? I’m thinking if I wasn’t the prisoner of pirates I would go and investigate it.”

Before Sam could reply the sound of running feet met both their ears, and soon enough Jo was dashing into the Captain’s office with a happy smile on her face.

“We’re close to Bobby’s.” She beamed, “We need all hands on deck.” She gave a quick wink to Castiel and then vanished the way she had come.

“Bobby’s?” Castiel queried as he grabbed a bite of cheese and ate it as he came around the desk to join Sam.

“As Dean and I were growing up, there would be times when our father John would need to go out on his own. He needed a safe place to keep his ship, the Impala, and his sons. Bobby is an old friend, once sailed many years with John when John was my age. Now Bobby has a sort of secret hidden cove on Tortuga…..” Sam gestured for Castiel to follow as he left the office. “It serves as a way station for certain vessels, and a place for pirates and buccaneers to gather information. But navigating in is tricky. We’ll need to trim the Seraph’s sails down tight and use the poles normally suited for repelling enemy boarders to push away from the rocks… so we don’t damage the Seraph’s hull.”

Sam and Castiel came onto the main deck to a flurry of activity.

Benny, Tamara, Jo and Christina were heaving the rope lines to bring the main sails down. Garth and Victor were lining up the long sturdy poles, Garth on starboard, Victor on port side. Inias was currently at the helm and Samandriel was just finished tying down a wrapped up sail off the mizzenmast. Dean was scurrying down the main mast, doing a gliding fall by gripping and swinging down on the rigging almost like a monkey.

Once he landed he strode up to Sam, “Sammy, get Inias off the helm and get him up in the prow to watch for rocks. You man the helm….” Sam nodded and ran off to do as asked. That was when Castiel realized that Dean was holding a looped rope in his hands.

He stepped right up close to Castiel and their eyes locked just exactly as they had done in Castiel’s dream. In a low soft voice Dean asked, “Do you trust me Cas?”

Castiel took in a breath. He had no logical reason to trust Dean, but deep in his heart he somehow knew it was okay. That he trusted Dean. It made no sense but there it was.

Castiel came closer, erasing their personal space, his blue eyes wide. “I do Dean, I trust you….”

The brilliant smile that flooded over Dean’s face made Castiel’s heart trip and stumble, crashing into an out of control flutter. “Good.” Dean said and handed the looped rope to Cas. “Step into this… keep your foot secure. I need you eyes up in the crow’s nest….. need you to help us see what we might not be able to see here from the decks.”

Dean handed the rope to Castiel and for a brief amazing moment Castiel thought Dean would lean in and kiss him. But just as quickly as the feeling had surfaced, Dean was bounding away with that bright smile still aimed at Castiel. “Hold on tight Cas!”

Dean went to the base of the main mast and began to loosen the weights on one of the rigging ropes. Castiel’s eyes did a fast survey of the rope, where it lead to and what it was connected on, and he realized Dean was freeing one of the upper weights in the rigging so it would be fall down to the deck as a counter weight…..

….and in turn zip Castiel via the foot loop all the way up into the top levels of the rigging in seconds. It was insane and risky and all manner of unsafe and…..

Castiel took hold of the rope and seated his foot and focused.

A second later the weight was singing down in a controlled fall to the deck and Castiel was soaring up, launched by the counter weight to fly up high into the upper main mast’s rigging. He felt the air rush past him as he sailed up to the top, and when the rope came to its end, Castiel used the momentum to step and jump. He jettisoned from the topgallant sail spar and kept flying higher past the royal sail to the skysail without the rope. His hands came up and he caught the rail of the crow’s nest and flipped his body sideways up and in.

By the time his feet hit the floor of the crow’s nest Castiel’s whole body was electrified with the thrill of it all. He took in a sharp breath and let out a giddy laugh before he leaned against the rail and looked down.

Dean was looking up at him from the deck, a mix of delight, awe and something else unidentifiable shining in his eyes. If possible Dean’s smile had gotten bigger. He said something Castiel couldn’t hear or make out, and then he was off to help Garth and Victor.

It was then that Castiel looked up and beheld the coast of Tortuga and the giant rock cliffs that rimmed the passage into the cove. In the gloaming twilight, the water looked like ink and the cliffs of ancient lava rock looked like solid shadow. The passage was impossibly narrow and Castiel couldn’t imagine why they were attempting to navigate this stretch at night under a new moon instead of waiting for daylight.

Below him, golden light caught his eyes. He couldn’t see them before where he was on deck, but the crew had hung dozens of lanterns along the outside of the hull. The Seraph was ringed in light and as Castiel looked, he could see down deep into the water below and all around the immediate area of the water around the ship.

They nosed the Seraph in between the looming cliffs that towered over the ship a good twenty feet above Castiel’s head. She was riding on her lingering speed from the sails and the incoming swell of the tide. The Seraph sluiced between two massive juts of rock, their surfaces sharp, rough and dangerous.

Castiel held his breath. The Seraph was moving so fast and the rocks were too close!

The clack of poles bracing against rock hit Castiel’s ears and he looked down to see Victor and Dean bracing the thick wooden poles against the rock face. They shoved and turned, guiding the Seraph just mere feet from the destructive cliff wall. The moment the ship skid past them, Dean was racing across the deck to join Garth on the other side to do it again. Benny came up carrying one of the large barrels used to collect rainwater on deck and he wedged it between rock and ship, letting the barrel roll and take the brunt of the damage from the rocks.

Inias began to call out to Sam or to Victor or to Garth and adjustments would be made. Sam would use his powerful arms to bring the helm to bear while the rest of the crew would heave and push against the rocks with the poles when needed. Castiel alerted Sam of an under water rock formation, jutting up from the sea floor. Sam avoided it with skillful ease.

Soon they had passed through the tense jagged rocks to float sweetly into one of the most beautiful coves Castiel had ever seen. It was a nearly perfect crescent shape and its shores were lined with silvery white sand. Verdant jungles of trees and flowers spilled down from the hills beyond and cradled a small settlement built in the center. The settlement’s buildings didn’t reach very high, but it did reach out into the water of the cove with welcoming docks and board walks. Warm colored lanterns speckled the entire scene and the scents of freshly baked bread and pies came up to tease at Castiel’s nose.

This wasn’t just some pirate outpost. This was a sanctuary. A home.

Castiel was abruptly overwhelmed with homesickness and longing for his family in England. For his brother Gabriel’s hilarious banter, his sister Anna’s gentle smiles, his sister Hester’s amazing beef stew, and even for his stalwart brother Michael’s stern frowns. They lived in a hamlet called The Haven in West Sussex and their family ran a small but tidy pub called ‘The Blue Ship”. Castiel wondered how they were all faring, and if he was missed much. He hadn’t seen them since he had joined the Royal Navy ten years ago.

A sharp whistle called up to Castiel and pulled him out of his thoughts. Dean was waving for him to come back down to the main deck. Castiel began the slow decent out of the crow’s nest via the rope ladder along the rigging, but then he recalled the way Dean had seemed to float down, leaping and swinging on the rigging ropes. Castiel paused, tugged on his leather gloves and then swung off the rope ladder.

As he descended, he could see the patterns of the ropes unfold. Where there were footholds, where one could grip and swing with an arm or hand. Where you could grab on a rope and sail around and down ten feet in mere seconds. Castiel landed with a firm clap of his boots to the deck and looked up to see that Dean had been watching him.

Dean cheeks were coloured warmly and he was biting his lip slightly as he smiled at Castiel. The heat in Dean’s eyes spoke of desire and Castiel felt their pull like they were magnets and he was iron. Castiel went to Dean, feeling desire of his own well up within him, warm with the promise of possibility singing delightedly under his skin.

He was halfway across the deck to Dean when a long horn cried out from the docks welcoming the Seraph. It halted Castiel and drew both he and Dean’s gazes to the docks. The Seraph slid up to those docks as if she had always belonged there. The gangplank was lowered and people spilled up onto the main deck to greet the Winchesters and their crew like long lost family.

The welcoming party for the Winchesters and their crew were exactly that: A party. Twenty some people gathered the crew and helped them unload and secure the ship. Jo’s mother, Ellen was there to greet her daughter with teary eyes and happy smiles. Many greeted the pirate crew with warm hugs and welcoming smiles.

Sam came to stand beside Castiel, and noted that Inias, Samandriel and Christina were clustered in Castiel’s orbit nearby.

“We can find places for you and others to stay while we are here if you like Cas.” Sam stood relaxed and easy, his hands resting on his hips as a wide smile rested on his face.

Castiel was about to express his gratitude, when a boy of about eight ran past both he and Sam calling for Dean. Dean turned with a grin and greeted the lad with an affectionate ruffle to the boy’s hair. A lovely young woman with dark hair and eyes followed the boy. She came easily up to Dean and wrapped him in a lingering embrace. She pulled Dean down to kiss him softly on the cheek and her hand remained on his shoulder when she leaned back.

Castiel felt the deck tilt under his feet and his head felt a little dizzy. Of course Dean would have a family somewhere. How could Castiel have been so foolish? He had allowed his guard down, allowed himself to feel some sort of strange fondness for Dean. Attraction and want for a pirate! It was shameful and Castiel felt flustered from how unseemly he had become.

Sam followed Castiel’s line of sight and then turned his attention back to the Commander, “Cas?”

Castiel straightened his shoulders and looked away from Dean. “Sam, thank you for the generous offer, but I believe I would like to sleep in my old quarters here on the Seraph for now.” Castiel’s face was back to being the regimented Naval Officer once more. He turned to his old crewmates and addressed them in a formal tone, “You have leave to do as you like. Have a pleasant evening.”

Castiel gave Sam a brief but controlled smile and a slight bow. Then he turned and marched below deck, hiding how his insides were roiling and his skin felt suddenly so very cold.

What Castiel failed to see as he left, was how Dean tracked Cas’ every move, eyes following Castiel with open longing and great disappointment that Castiel would not be coming ashore with them. When Dean caught Sam watching, Dean pulled his eyes up and away to the sky above.

For the first time in his whole life, Dean was unhappy to be back in Tortuga.

 

 

(to be continued)


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

 

Dawn found itself leaking in dancing filaments through the port hole window of Castiel’s quarters, reaching like fairy fingers to tease at Castiel’s closed eyes. He pulled them open and was glad that he hadn’t dreamt of Dean. He was in his own bunk, inside his small quarters, comforting and familiar. The sound of water against the hull of the nearly empty ship eased Castiel as he swung his legs out of bed.

He dressed in his usual uniform and pulled on the coat he had been so missing. His father had actually saved the life of the former King one bleak winter day, and thus Castiel’s family was afforded the rare distinction of being allowed to wear one of their family colors alongside the usual Royal Navy’s. All of Castiel’s coats, both regular uniform and dress, were the light tan from the Novak family crests. Trimmed with the white, golds and blues of the Royal Navy colours, it made for a very dashing look.

Castiel fixed the high collar and the buttons on his coat, and then put on his sword holster with his sword sheathed within. Then he left his quarters to use the officer’s lavatory. Finally fresh, rested and wearing his uniform he came up on deck.

Inias was there on deck, leaning casually against the side rail and looking out over the cove in the early morning light. It was just as lovely as it had been the evening before.

“Quite the paradise is it not Commander?” Inias smiled.

Castiel rolled the stiff formality out of his shoulders and he leaned on the rail next to Inias, “It is. Did you rest well last night?”

Inias nodded, “I did. I also wrote a letter to my wife in England. I was told last night that there are ships in Port de Paix across the channel in Haiti that will ferry letters to France, and from there to England. I’ve asked her to join me here…..Do you have any family in England Castiel?”

“I do. In West Sussex.” Castiel let a small smile out, more memories of his home there lingering in his mind. He had been a fool to become attached to Dean. He would resolve the mystery of the cargo bound for King George and if need be, deliver it himself. Then he would retire from the Navy and take up life in the small hamlet he had grown up in. He would find respite and contentment there.

“But that’s not where your soul will be happiest Castiel.” A woman’s voice came from behind the Naval officers and both men turned curiously around.

She was curvy and well endowed with a thick riot of jet curls on her head. Her eyes were large, dark and knowing in a way that made both men stand away from the rail in respect. She was dressed head to toe in colourful silks, beads and trinkets. She held an other-worldliness about her, and Castiel found it hard to meet her wide gaze.

“Pardon Madame, but… what did you say?” Castiel titled his head a bit as his brows knit up in curiosity.

“The Haven isn’t where your heart lies Castiel. Certainly you know this. Your life is the sea.” She said it so matter of factly, as if there were no dispute to it.

“I’m sorry, but do we know each other?” Castiel took a tentative step closer.

“We will. But for now I am here to tell you that you need to be making your way to Bobby’s home. Both you fellas. Hurry now.” She gestured off towards the end of the docks. “Take the path off the left of the docks, when your feet touch land. Then follow that up. Sam will be along to collect you in an hour, but no sense in makin’ that boy walk all the way down here when he don’t have to.”

Inias gave the woman a long look, then nodded and headed for the gangplank and the docks.

Castiel hesitated. He narrowed his eyes at her and took another step closer. “What did you mean when you said home would not be where my soul was happiest?”

The woman gave a soft sigh, “I saw you were a stubborn one. Like an octopus you are, not willing to let go when you get curious about somethin’.” She brushed one hand down along her skirt and her bracelets jingled. Castiel then saw there were bones mixed among the beads.

Then she lifted her gaze and gave Castiel a warm sweet smile, “You belong out on the sea Castiel. The salt of it is in your bones and the sea air is in your lungs. And there’s more. You don’t even know what is waiting inside you, waiting to awake and come out to bring you more adventure than you could ever imagine.”

She took a small step forward and gestured to the deck of the Seraph, “This isn’t the right ship though. You have to stay at Dean’s side. You must free the Impala.” Her tone grew more urgent and she reached out as if she would touch Castiel, “You must gather the peaches, save the Prince….. and destroy the Demon. There is so much to do. You mustn’t’ abandon Sam and Dean. They need you Castiel!” She implored, “They need you to help them free the Impala….. Only you will be able to break its chains.”

Castiel stepped forward, eager questions on his tongue. This was all so very weird and odd. Her words were cryptic at best. He was about to ask her to clarify everything when suddenly the woman was simply no longer there. The space she had occupied was empty. His heart hammering in his chest, Castiel looked around the deck quickly. Surely this was some sort of trick or an illusion. People do not just up and vanished into the air.

A light breeze fluttered around Castiel and he thought, strangely for a moment, that the air whispered to him as it past. It sent a shiver down his arms and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“Castiel? Are you coming?” Inias called from the docks.

Castiel shivered once more and then hastened to be at his fellow officer’s side.

 

 

 

 

The hidden cove and the settlement within it was called Singer’s Sanctuary and it was comprised of a dry dock and salvage area to repair ships, a small market, a pub, a meager inn, a blacksmith, a tailor, a baker and several homesteads. Currently the Seraph was docked next to the salvage and repair area for other ships. One ship sat tucked up within, her hull gaping with repairs, as the outer hull was being stripped and replaced. This ship’s name was scoured from the back as part of her repairs, and her figurehead was missing. It made it difficult for Castiel to identify it.

In contrast the Seraph’s figurehead stood out proudly. It was a stately angel with her wings unfurled along the prow and a flaming sword of righteousness gripped in her hand. Her face was fierce but beautiful. Castiel had become fond of it over the years, in spite of its overly dramatic visage.

As Castiel and Inias made their way along the docks, Castiel wondered if the ship being repaired was the Impala, the Winchester’s ship. And if this was the reason why Sam and Dean felt the need to take the Seraph. He wondered a moment how the brothers and their crew had become castaways on that island, but then he brushed the thought aside. He focused on the mission he had given himself this morning: find a suitable crew to man the Seraph, return to the island to rescue his crew, and then make their connection in Port Royal to see about the cargo for the King.

He ignored the words the mysterious woman had spoken and pressed on.

At the end of the docks a cobbled road to the right led towards the market, the other docks, the inn and the rest of the settlement. Before them sat a large warehouse and adjoining it, the blacksmith. But to the right, just as the strange woman had said, there was a path leading off to the left. It was large enough to handle a wagon, and it went up through the jungle like greenery away from the beaches.

Inias and Castiel followed it now, making idle conversation about the plants and trees, all new to their English eyes.

They walked for a few short minutes and the path brought them to a large open iron gate. Beyond it was a Spanish style courtyard of tile with a small terra cotta fountain in its center. To their left, a small beach ran down to meet the refreshing waters of the cove. To their right, a modest garden filled with azalea and hibiscus bushes. And in front of them, a decent sized villa with open archways and breezy porches. On one of these a great table was set up and people were moving about placing out a breakfast of eggs and ham, breads and cheese. Big bowls of fruit over flowed with grapes, pomegranates, oranges and grapefruit.

Sam Winchester stood at the end of the table pouring water from a pitcher into a goblet. When he saw Castiel and Inias approach, a warm smile came over his face. He poured another goblet, took them both in hand and walked up to greet the officers.

“Good morn!” Sam cheerfully handed over the goblets to Inias and Castiel. “There will be tea soon, and coffee… though it’s the Cuban style. You’ll have to taste it. It’s quite strong.” Sam began to guide them to the table and Inias went gladly.

Castiel hesitated, still in the courtayard, his left hand resting fitfully on the pommel of his sword.

“Cas?” Sam raised a brow and chuckled. “Not willing to break fast with pirates?”

Castiel let his eyes sweep over the people gathered and who were beginning to sit down for the meal. His other crewmates were here, Samandriel and Christina. As were all of the Winchester brothers’ crew and Jo’s mother, Ellen. Everyone was there except the boy and the dark haired woman from the evening before…. And Dean.

“Sam, I appreciate your hospitality, but I must decline.” Castiel let his eyes fall to the clear water in the goblet in his right hand. “Inias and Christina have leave to stay with you and your brother, but I must implore Samandriel to remain with me… we need to cobble and make-shift crew…. Now that you are in Tortuga, I mean to take the Seraph back to the island to retrieve the rest of the naval officers and crewmen there…”

“Hold on there a minute yer Majesty, I think you can at least have a spot of bread before you rush off on yer quest.” A rough but good-natured voice came up alongside Sam. The man it belonged to clasped Sam affectionately on the shoulder. He was just shy of Castiel’s height and the salt grey streaks in his beard told that the man had seen many fair summers in his life. His eyes were keen, and twinkled with good humor yet there was underlying steel there too.

Castiel took in the man’s face and then nearly dropped the goblet he was holding when he recognized whom he was. “You’re Robert Singer. You were with Henry Morgan when he attacked Panama!”

Bobby just smiled, “Nice to know you can identify a pretty face when you see it Commander.” And with that Bobby winked and walked away to take his place at his table.

“Morgan was eventually Governor in Port Royal you know…Sanctioned by the King.” Sam gave Castiel a side-eyed look and watched the Commander pale slightly. Sam placed his hand on Castiel’s shoulder much like Bobby had done with Sam. “Bobby Captained his own ship for many years…. Sailed with my father John… With the Harvelles… and with Rufus Turner.”

“They are all wanted for piracy Sam. All would hang if they set foot on English soil. How is that supposed to make me feel any better about being here?” Castiel leveled an exasperated look at Sam.

Sam chuckled again, his smile growing. “You need to relax Cas.” He began to gently but firmly guide Castiel over to the table to join the others. “And you’ll need to let go of this idea that you’re leaving with the Seraph.”

Castiel stopped and stiffened. He let his cool officer exterior colour his face as he turned to Sam, “His Majesty’s vessel is part of my command. You are safe here with your families now. I will be taking the Seraph to retrieve my crew that was left behind.”

“Not happening Cas.”

The words came warm, gusting gentle against Castiel’s skin just below his ear. Castiel felt that warmth trickle into goose bumps down the back of his neck, under his collar. He turned, his eyes dark and angry.

Dean was standing close to his other side opposite Sam, and he was looking Castiel up and down as if the Commander was part of the breakfast menu.

“What did you say?” Castiel narrowed his eyes, his nostrils flared.

Dean just gave off a cheeky smile. “Not. Happening. Cas.” Dean leaned in, his eyes not meeting Castiel’s but were instead focused on the small hard line of Castiel’s mouth. Taunting Castiel by looking for all the world as if he would reach over and nibble at Castiel in broad daylight. “Sam and I, we need that ship to get The Impala back.”

Dean closed the space between them. He brushed his cheek along Castiel’s as Dean’s lips found the edge of Castiel’s ear. Dean practically purred, “And you’re gonna help us Cas.”

Furious, Castiel flung the goblet to the ground, and shattered it. He planted his now freed hand against Dean’s chest and shoved, hard, forcing the pirate to take several steps back. Instantly Castiel drew his sword and leveled the point at Dean’s throat.

“Blaggard!” Castiel growled. “I’ll have my ship and my crew from you. Arm yourself!”

Dean’s initial look of surprise melted into utter delight. Castiel was poised, polished, and refined in his stance. Saber point unwavering. The challenge of meeting Castiel in a duel set Dean’s eyes alight and his heart into a gallop.

“Alright… alright… let’s say I accept… and we duel….” Dean flicked his eyes down Castiel’s body, appreciating how the uniform cut drew a smart line from Castiel’s broad shoulders down to the swell of his ass and the muscle tone along the back of Castiel’s thighs. “What are the spoils?”

“Besides keeping your life?” Castiel’s voice had dropped lower with a menacing rumble to it.

Behind them, the sounds of chairs being scooted away from the table could be heard. Dean pointed a thumb over his shoulder at his crew, his friends, his family. “You slay me? You would fall cold and dead in moments Cas. You must know that.”

Castiel did not take his eyes off Dean, but he could see Sam pull to his full height. Sam’s eyes were as deadlier than a shark’s. Castiel addressed Dean down the cool edge of his saber. “Very well. We duel, but not to the death. Name your terms Winchester.”

Dean lifted one hand and opened it, extending his fingers. Charlie walked up and placed the handle of a sword into Dean’s grasp. It was a similar style saber as Castiel’s, though not as well crafted. Castiel raised a brow at this. The sword Dean had been sporting on board the Seraph had been a long scimitar, something styled for brash slashing and brutal hacking. Not anything like the elegance of the swords they were going to use now.

Dean’s smile went a bit cockier as he saw Castiel note the sword he had been given by Charlie. “My terms are these Commander…. If you win… you take your crewmates and the Seraph and go where you will. Unhindered by me and my kin.” Dean shrugged out a small smirk, “Hell, we’ll even load her up with food and supplies for ya.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes once more, “And if you win.”

Dean relaxed his shoulders and then stepped into an exact mirrored pose of the stance Castiel was holding. “If I win Cas… you stay with us, be part of our crew, aid us in our goals, go wither we go. And….” Dean grinned wickedly as he paused.

“And?!” Castiel growled.

He let his voice drop so only Castiel and Sam could hear him. “And tonight… from sun down to sun rise…. you must share my bed and all that implies.” Dean licked his lips slowly, drawing the flesh of his tongue suggestively along his plush bottom lip.

Castiel’s heart froze in his chest as heat spread quickly across the rest of his body. ‘This must truly be what it was like to hear a siren's call, to feel desire take hold of your rational mind and plunge it into discord and seal your doom.' Castiel thought to himself as his stomach curled into a thrilled knot. Surely he was a cursed man. Dean was infuriating.

 

 

(to be continued)


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

 

The mid-morning sun was now coming through the fronds of the palms surrounding the small courtyard and glinting off the sparkling water in the fountain. Its gentle trickle of water doing naught to quell the tension buzzing rife through the air as the two men held ready to duel.

Sam stood, legs planted wide with his arms crossed over his chest. His disapproving countenance doing little to dissuade his impetuous brother. Dean had become increasingly enamored of the Royal Commander since they had hoisted the officer’s unconscious body from the Seraph’s crow’s nest, and now Dean’s desire to get under the officer’s skin just might lose them that very same ship. “Dean, you can’t possibly…”

“Shut up Sam.” Dean’s voice came a bit louder than he intended. “Cas is a big boy. He’s knows what he’s getting into.”

Indeed Castiel did. He was no stranger to duels, or to the art of fighting with a sword. He had in fact excelled at it. It wasn’t his skill he was worried about. It was his focus.

Dean was dressed in a loose fitting off white linen shirt, the sort a gentleman usually would wear beneath his dress shirt. The neck opening was hanging open, untied, and it gave Castiel ample view of the sun-blessed skin around Dean’s collar and the galaxy of freckles there. For pants Dean was in a pair of snug fitting breeches. Its fabric skimmed along the muscle of Dean’s thighs but ending at the knees displayed Dean’s toned calves. Dean was barefoot, beautiful and carefree. In all of Castiel’s days no opponent had ever been so visually distracting.

“What say you… Commander….” Dean let the edge of his mouth hitch up at the corner. “Do you accept the terms of the duel?”

Castiel looked into Dean’s eyes, at the green there, the same shade as the clover that grew alongside the paths near Castiel’s home. It made the burn in his emotions flame up. At every turn Castiel tried to loathe the pirate and at every turn there was something about the rogue that beckoned Castiel to grow fond of the man, even to begin to admire Dean. Castiel quickly looked away and knew what he had to do. He would teach this scoundrel some manners. He would earn his crewmen back, he would have the Seraph back and then he would be long gone from the temptation that was Dean Winchester. He calmed his ire and tamped down his anger.

When Castiel next looked to Sam, he spoke with cool aplomb. “Blindfold me.”

“What?!?” Both brothers exclaimed at the same time.

With his free hand, Castiel tugged away the white scarf that wound about his throat as part of his uniform and held it out to Sam. “Blindfold me, if you please Sam.”

Hesitantly Sam took the white scarf from Castiel. “You can’t be serious. Cas… Dean had slain more souls in duels than I have call to count or remember….”

Castiel lifted his chin, “And would you think myself not capable of the same? My hands are not free of blood by any means. Please indulge me Sam.” And with that Castiel closed his eyes.

Sam stepped up behind Castiel and tied the scarf as a blindfold. He tied it snug and then as he took a step back, he motioned for the rest of the crew and the other onlookers to move to a safer distance away.

As placid as a spring day Castiel took in a slow breath, “I accept your terms Dean. A duel… the first to draw blood of the other wins.”

Dean shot a look over to Sam and shifted his bare feet against the smooth tile of the courtyard. Sam simply glared in return, then made his way over to where the others were gathered to watch. Dean let his grin hover over his face and he flexed his knees.

Castiel couldn’t see any of this, and because Castiel couldn’t see Dean, Dean wasn’t a distraction. Castiel could focus on certain things. He heard the sound Dean’s feet made against the courtyard tile, the breath Dean exhaled across his lips. Castiel could hear the faint creak of the leather on the handle of the saber Dean was holding when Dean tightened his grip there.

And the rustle of Dean’s shirt just before Dean was moving. Dean did a quick half step in, and his saber’s blade made a soft ‘thwick’ as it came around and under. Castiel parried with a quick downward flick of his blade, and then he was advancing, two fast paces into Dean’s space. Castiel’s sword moved with effortless speed and precision, up down up down and then out and around.

Dean had to dance back suddenly with a huff, barely blocking Castiel’s attack.

Castiel pressed. He crossed one foot over the other, and then stepped in again, even quicker now. Two shuffles and his blade came again in short controlled movements, Castiel’s arm long and elegant.

Flustered, Dean had to leap back and back, his shoulder bowed forward with effort just to meet each offense from Castiel’s sword. Castiel’s blade hadn’t even actually come close to Dean’s body, but his attacks threw Dean off his rhythm.

Castiel continued to push forward, his back lean and straight, his hips in perfect alignment with his legs. His face was pointed away from Dean, chin lifted. His arm barely moved, all the motion contained in his wrist and forearm coming down tidy from his shoulder. He danced towards Dean and Dean had to finally tuck and roll side ways to avoid the onslaught.

Dean bounced up to his feet, and his cheeky grin was long gone.

Castiel did a graceful pivot and then did a most unexpected thing.

He tossed his sword up lightly out of his right hand and caught it with his left. He then traded his stance for the reverse and leveled his blade with his new hand at Dean.

“You bastard….” Dean lifted his sword at Castiel and the irritation in his voice was plain.

Castiel let a very tiny please smile come out over his lips. “I believe the word you are looking for is ‘ambidextrous’…”

A heartbeat later Castiel was pressing into Dean’s space again, and just as Dean seemed to be anticipating the attack, Castiel side stepped, slid a step away again and Dean was pulled in an awkward forward stumble. His foot slapped loudly on the courtyard tile. Castiel casually traded sword hands once more, as if floating the sword from one hand to the other during combat was second nature to him.

Dean grunted with frustration while Castiel remained calm and cool.

Dean dragged the pad of his thumb against the corner of his mouth as he sized up Castiel’s stand, the poise of his feet, the perfect turn of Castiel’s ankle. With a sudden reckless rush he barrel in at Castiel aiming to grapple him and come under the officer’s sword. Dean meant to fluster Castiel and break his cool demeanor. He lunged at Castiel and dropped his shoulder, slipping into Castiel’s personal space and under Cas’ current sword arm. Dean felt his shoulder touch Castiel’s hip and then….

Castiel wasn’t there. He smoothly slunk sideways, avoiding the full impact of Dean’s maneuver.

They stepped apart from each other then, and slowly began circling, rounding closer to the edge of the courtyard and the encroaching sands of the beach leading to the waters of the cove. Dean carefully placed his next few steps to draw them out onto the soft white sand.

With calculated quick half executed thrusts, Dean coaxed Castiel to press forward in attack again. Only this time when Dean padded back in defense, he went onto the beach. And as they went onto the sand, Castiel’s little pleased smile faded.

Where Dean’s feet had made definitive sounds on the courtyard tile, the sounds his feet made in the sand was less obvious. Now it was a general shushing and soft whooshes.

Castiel adjusted his stance, the hard soles of his boots not finding the same sort of traction here. His sword movements became more reserved, held closer to his body. They were less aggressive and confident.

Dean licked his lips in delight as Castiel’s next attack wobbled. On the shifting uneven sand, Dean took his advantage. When Castiel’s next thrust went to graze at Dean’s thigh, Dean stepped into it and let Cas’s sword arm travel harmlessly along his side. Dean stepped right up close and brazenly slipped his unarmed hand around Castiel’s waist. Dean placed his leg, the one Cas meant to wound, right between Castiel’s knees.

And then Dean let his weight shift as he gripped onto Castiel. Cas’ momentum was forward and so Dean went with it, dropping his center of gravity by dropping his hips. It brought them both to fall tumbling to the sand, tripping Castiel’s feet up. But because Dean knew it was coming and Castiel didn’t, Dean used the half-second before Castiel could salvage his position to roll them both around.

When Castiel halted he found himself on his back on the sand, Dean on top of him, legs locked together. Castiel’s sword arm was over his head extended across the sand and his other arm was pinned, twisted half underneath his own body.

Dean’s previously empty hand was now clutching the back of Castiel’s coat, while the hand with his saber was merely resting on its elbow in the sand beside Castiel’s shoulder. And in their tussle, Castiel’s shirt and coat had come open at his throat, exposing for Dean the long line of Castiel’s neck. With a grin Dean let his lips drag in a light caress along Castiel’s jaw and down his neck to the edge of Castiel’s collar.

Up unto that moment Castiel’s body had been a honed weapon, his economy of movement calculated and executed with precision. But when the feeling of Dean’s hot breath met Castiel’s skin all his cool reserve exploded like gunpowder in a musket. His body went instantly tense and still on the outside while his entire interior flash flamed into a bright burst. His heart was hammering hard and his breath, once even and controlled, was now feathery and fluttering.

Dean lifted his face, and with one finger from his sword hand, tugged the blindfold up and off Castiel’s eyes. Those intense blues snapped open, all fathomless fury and fire at being bested.

Dean smiled down with a happy light in his eyes. He carefully, slowly made one measured cut with his saber to Castiel’s neck, just below the jut of his jaw. When a little bit of blood bloomed there Dean looked deep into Castiel’s eyes.

 

“I win Cas. You’re mine now.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

After Dean had won the duel, he had pushed off of Castiel, planted his sword into the sand and then strode off, triumphant. He brushed the sand from his clothing, snapped up some bread and cheese from the table, given his crew a satisfied wink and then he had sauntered off into the villa somewhere.

Castiel for his part just lay in the sand. Stunned. Dean had won. The Seraph was his to Captain, and Castiel was now honor bound to follow Dean. He was doomed. His traitorous heart was now dancing fitfully in his chest at the thought of spending the whole night with Dean.

The new shallow slice from Dean’s sword stung and he pulled his trapped arm free to idly press his hand against it. It sat on the opposite side of his neck from his other wound, the one Tamara had made when she had shot him with Charlie’s dart. Castiel was abruptly aware that he had no idea just what day it was exactly, was it Tuesday? He was unsure how long the Seraph had been in the Winchester’s control. Someone had said two days… had it really been so short of time for so much to happen?

As if summoned, Sam crouched down in the sand next to Castiel. Castiel looked up into Sam’s face. The younger Winchester looked weary and unsurprised by the turn of events.

Castiel let his annoyance out, the fingers of his free hand digging into the silky smooth sand. “Your brother cheated.”

“Yes well….” Sam gestured to himself, his manner of dress, his whole being, “Pirates.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and sat up.

“Cas, what happened to making amends to Dean and I for John’s execution? What happened to your oath to help us track down Azazel….?” Sam shifted and then came to sit beside Castiel in the sand. “I thought you had decided to help us….you said you would leads us to him and now you are demanding the Seraph back?”

Castiel pressed his hand again to the cut on his neck and gave Sam a sideways glance, “I will help you. I will take your evidence back to England and start formal court marshal procedures….”

“Bullshit Cas.” Sam turned to Castiel with a hard and sour look. “You were all ready to help us and then you saw Dean with Lisa and Ben last night. Now this morning you are spitting mad and demanding the Seraph and going back on your word.”

Castiel looked away and said nothing. The shame crept up into his throat. Sam was right. This wasn’t about honor or duty. This wasn’t about doing right by his crew or the Crown. This was about how Dean had gotten to Castiel, made Castiel feel things. How Dean had slipped under Castiel’s calm and made Castiel want things he shouldn’t want, couldn’t want.

“And of course it’s all ridiculous.” Sam frowned, softening just bit. He had seen the look on Castiel’s face as Cas had watched Dean in the rigging of the Seraph, had seen how Castiel would track Dean with his eyes when Cas thought no one was looking. Sam had also seen Castiel’s dismay when Lisa had come aboard with Ben and welcomed Dean home.

When Castiel remained silent, Sam continued. “It’s ridiculous because Dean isn’t with Lisa… she’d like to have more with him. And they had been a couple once when Ben was younger. But it’s not in Dean to stay in one port, live on land, be husband and father to someone. Not yet at any length. Not with the Impala to retrieve and Azazel to find.”

Castiel hazarded a glance at Sam again, his eyes contrite. “You’re right Sam. I did say I would assist you. I did go back on my word. I should not have done that. I am… sorry.”

Sam nodded, met Castiel’s eyes and then looked out over the cove. “Well met and accepted.” Then he looked back at Castiel.

Castiel’s eyes were lingering over his officer’s coat, his hand still gingerly pressed to his new wound. But his eyes were leagues away in thought.

Softly Sam nudged Castiel’s shoulder, “Dean stayed with you, while you were unconscious. When Tamara shot you, you actually nearly avoided the hit and when you shifted to duck, the dart went close to your jugular. We were sure that you were dead up there in the crow’s nest.”

Castiel lifted his eyes to meet Sam’s. “But the wound isn’t that deep… I looked under the bandages myself.”

“The dart grazed you, for certain. I stitched you up. And the poison Charlie made did its trick. But Dean was still by your side for the two days you slept, fretting.” Sam chuckled now.

“Why?” Castiel frowned, confused.

“He claims he’s seen you in his dreams.” Sam let that sit for a moment before he continued. “It’s one of the reasons why he was unable to settle down with Lisa, commit to her. He loved her for sure, but was not ‘in love’ with her. He’s told me he’s been waiting for….” Sam cleared his throat, “His Angel.”

“His angel?!” Castiel’s uncertainty deepened.

“Tonight when you are with him, ask him of his dreams. They are his to tell.” Sam nodded, then quickly said, “You know Dean was teasing before the duel…. He would never force himself on you, not truly. I know he tumbled with you in the Captain’s cabin, and here on this beach he took a liberty… but the moment you would say ‘No’, Dean would cease and withdraw. If you are uncomfortable fulfilling your loss by sleeping with him tonight, he won’t hold you to it.”

“Sam, I am unsure of what I do want….” The honesty in Castiel’s voice was plain. “I do know that I will not let you down again Sam. I will keep my word. The Seraph is yours and Dean’s to use, as you will. I aim to follow and aid you as best as I can.”

Sam smiled then. He clapped Castiel on the shoulder and stood. “Tis good to hear and I will be happy to call you friend, Castiel.”

“Sam?” Castiel looked up to Sam. “I do have one last question… were you planning on coming aboard the Seraph this morning to collect Inias and I?”

“I was actually… and then wonder of wonders, you came to Bobby’s yourself. Why?” Sam rested his hands in a relaxed manner on his hips.

Castiel frowned and looked away, out over the cove. “There was a strange woman on the ship this morning. She said many things I don’t understand. One was that you were going to come for us, but that we should go on our own and save you the trip. She also said I had to help you and Dean free the Impala. That I must stay by Dean’s side. She said so many other odd things that had no rhyme or reason. And then she just vanished.” Castiel looked back up at Sam. “It was all quite odd.”

Sam titled his head a little and looked at Castiel as if this all sounded curiously interesting, “What did she look like Cas?”

As Castiel described the woman, her large dark eyes, her colourful dress, her beads and the bones on her jewelry, Sam’s eyes became wide and his fingers tensed. “I know a woman who meets that description but….”

“But what?” Castiel asked.

“This is impossible.” Sam ran a nervous hand through his hair, “She’s the last person who saw my father, John, alive. And she’s no where near Tortuga.”

“I do not understand…” Castiel rose to his feet.

Sam huffed out a nervous breath, “Cas, it sounds like it was our family friend, Missouri. But Missouri is all the way north in New Orleans! That’s more than four hundred leagues from here!”

 

 

(to be continued)


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

 

Sam spent the next few moments guiding Castiel back over to the table where the rest of the crew had settled down to eat, their mild friendly chatter colouring the air now. When they reached the table, Jo made a space for Sam to sit, and Charlie scooted over on her bench, patting it gently as an invitation to Castiel. She gave him a soft knowing smile with a twinkle in her eyes before starting to load Castiel’s plate with cheese, fruit and bread.

“The thing is….” Sam reached for a loaf of bread and began to tear off the end, “It can’t have been Missouri… she’s all the way up in America. Never leaves there.”

“Missouri? What are you talking about Sam?” Ellen was at Castiel’s side now, tugging his hand away from the cut Dean had made to begin bandaging it up.

“There was a woman on board the Seraph this morning….” Castiel began.

“Quite mysterious looking!” Inias chimed in before lifting a glass to his lips.

“She said some…. Confusing things and then she just…” Castiel gave a slight shrug, “Vanished. It was as if she just turned into the air.”

Bobby leaned forward, one brow raised. “She what?”

Castiel looked at Bobby at an awkward angle as Ellen tilted his head so she could get a better view of the cut, and tend the wound. “We didn’t see her board… she was just there. She had very dark large eyes and dark black hair. She was dressed in an eclectic manner, beads and bangles… and bones on her person.” Castiel gestured across his chest.

Ellen and Bobby traded a careful look, then Ellen said, “What did she say to you?”

Castiel sighed, “It’s poppycock. She said that the Seraph wasn’t the right ship for me, she said I had to stay by Dean’s side. She was insistent that I needed to ‘free the Impala’….whatever that means….and then she said something about saving a Prince and something about peaches and destroying a demon….”

The table had gone silent, save for Samandriel and Inias still chewing their food. The rest of the table was looking to Bobby. Castiel lifted his eyes to the older pirate as Bobby shoved the remains of his food away with a grumble.

“Dag-nammit.” Bobby growled.

Ellen’s eyes went soft and she finished bandaging Castiel, “Jo, will you and the others finish up breakfast please and then tidy up? Bobby, Sam, Cas and I need to go talk for a bit.”

Jo nodded and then without thinking she said, “This about Dean and Sam’s dreams huh?” The moment the words were out of her mouth she shot an apologetic look to Sam, who just gave her a weak smile in return.

Sam looked to their other new crewmates, Samandriel, Inias and Christina. “Forgive us the secrecy… Jo and Benny and the rest will fill you in.” As he stood, grabbing a pear from his plate, he gave Jo a gentle pat in forgiveness.

Ellen pulled Castiel to stand, then she followed Bobby back into the villa, Sam not far behind. Cas turned to follow, but before he could step away, Charlie tucked a bit of bread and cheese into Castiel’s hands. Then she gave him a small ‘shoo’ to send him off.

Castiel followed Sam back through the breezeway, back into a small inner garden framed by two buildings. They had tall thin windows and tall thin doors, most of which were standing open. Sam ducked in through one and Castiel followed to find them standing in one of the largest collections of books Castiel had ever seen outside of London. The room was very large and the walls were lined with shelves and filled with books. One long table lived in the center of the room, and a desk was placed to one side near a fireplace. A large world globe sat in a corner and any place not covered in bookshelves along the walls was marked in strange painted sigils. Castiel looked down to see there were large circular complex designs painted on the hard wood floors and up into the plaster ceiling.

Castiel found his eyes riveted to these designs, something familiar about them tugging at the back of his mind.

Bobby had gone to the desk and retrieved a leather bound journal from within it. He brought it over to the table, opened it and placed it down.

“I figure you know about Mary Winchester….” Bobby leveled a hard look at Castiel, and Castiel nodded in the affirmative. Bobby turned the journal around so Castiel could see it, then pointed to an entry on the page, as if instructing Castiel to read.

Castiel leaned over and began to read what was written there in someone’s practiced flowing handwriting:

‘It’s been a year since Mary was killed. Dean’s having nightmares, different ones. At first they were expected: the sort you’d know a small boy to have after his Mother’s death. But now these, these are worse. More than just about the fire. They’re changing. And when Dean wakes crying, Sam does too. As if their dreams are entwined.

No small co-incidence then, to learn that the beast what killed Mary has left Massachusetts and the Americas. He’s on a ship bound for England and I mean to follow. I believe with all certainty that my boys’ dreams and that creature’s movements are connected. I fear Sam and Dean have been marked by that fiend in some inexplicable way.’

His brows knit up in confusion, Castiel first looks at Sam.

Sam is looking out one of the open doors, out into the sun and the garden. His arms are folded protectively against his chest.

“I don’t understand.” Castiel feels very lost.

“That’s John Winchester’s journal. When Mary died, John took the boys and began to track Grigori Brown, to bring him to justice for slaughtering Mary….” Ellen offers, “As John did so in the following years, he became aware that Brown may not be what he first thought…. A blood thirsty killer of women…. That he may be something…. More.”

“That’s when John sought out Missouri Mosley. She’s a seer and a Mambo…. A priestess of Voodoo. She answered a lot of his questions and then she sent him to me. To train him and teach him what I know.” Bobby sat down into a creaking wood chair and extended his legs.

“You see Castiel, Bobby and I…. and my former husband Bill, we used pirating to fund what we really do. What Sam, Dean and Jo were really raised for….” Ellen spoke plainly, “We hunt things…. Unnatural things…. Things that live in the dark and aim to hurt people.”

“When Sam and Dean refer to Brown…. Now Azazel…. as a demon, they aren’t just using colorful language to describe how awful he is.” Bobby gave Castiel a firm even look, “They call him one cuz that’s what the bastard really is. Hell spawn, a demon walkin’ the earth in the form of a man.”

Castiel shook his head, “Demons and devils are things the Church has made up to get people to fear and tithe more. They are no more real than werewolves or vampires……” Castiel scoffed, “or angels.”

Sam moved away from the window then and rolled up his sleeves. He displayed his arms for Castiel to see. Long deep scars scored Sam’s skin and they did not look like sword wounds, or the type of mark one gets from a life at sea. They were claw marks, simple and obvious and ugly. Sam gave Castiel a half smile, “I’d ask you to tell that to the werewolf that made these marks, but Dean’s already put that beast down.”

“Wh…” Castiel stumbled on his words, “Surely…. surely you…. you can’t be serious.”

Ellen gestured to the floor and the ceiling at the designs there, “Protection wards. They ain’t for decoration, son.”

Bobby tapped his fingers on the arms of the chair he was seated in, “You don’t have to take our word for it, you’re part of Dean’s crew now. You’ll see soon enough.” Bobby slid up out of the chair and reaching the table, flipped closed John Winchester’s journal. “If Missouri came to you Cas, it means things are heatin’ up in the spirit world and you’ve got some part to play in all this.” Bobby looked to Sam, “Sam, I think you and Dean need to take the Seraph and go see her, find out what John was doing up there before he got himself caught an’ hung. And one other thing…” Bobby picked up the journal and handed it to Sam, “Your Dad’s last entry talks about something that can put Brown, Azazel, whatever… put that demon down, permanent like. See if you can get Missouri to tell you what it was.”

Sam nodded and took the journal, opening it and stepping to the side to begin to read through it. Ellen and Bobby went to Bobby’s desk, talking quietly about some sort of extra fortifications needed for the villa and the settlement.

Dazed, Castiel wandered back outside into the little garden. He nibbled idly on the cheese he was still holding; not so much from hunger but to have something mundane to do as his mind processed these strange things he had been told.

Vampires, real? Demons from hell truly walking the earth? Creatures of unnatural evil preying on people and these pirates… these criminals and supposed villains… were the front line actually trying to protect people? Save them?

Castiel chewed and was rather surprised when he realized that he was not as awestruck or aghast or disturbed at this information as he felt he should be. That left a deep nagging concern lingering in his gut. Had he known maybe instinctually on some primal level that the things that go bump in the night were real?

Or was he losing his sanity and his grip on reality?

He was pulled from his thoughts by an alarmed shout coming from the front of the villa, followed by the sound of a musket’s discharge ricocheting in the distance. Then an alarm bell clamored out, echoing through the entire cove.

Castiel strode to the front of the villa to find Benny loading his rifle with gunpowder at the table where they had eaten breakfast barely twenty minutes ago. Benny didn’t look up, intent on what he was doing. “British soldiers…. They came over land from Pon Vicen I’d guess…. I sent Inias, Samandriel, Victor and th’ ladies back to the Seraph. Garth’s gone ta’ git Dean, you best grab Sam. We need ta pull anchor an’ be quick. We may need to fight our way out.” The burly man strode away from the villa without looking back, heading for the Seraph.

Castiel looked up at the sky. It was barely noon and already he had been contacted by a Mambo, been in a duel and beaten, conscribed into the service of pirates, been told that supernatural beings were real and now they were going to skirmish with soldiers from the Crown… his Crown, the King and Country he had sworn to protect.

A still small place deep inside Castiel murmured that no, that was not who he was sworn to protect at all. He had been sent to watch over someone, and their name hovered teasing just at the edges of Castiel’s mind.

A loud rifle report just beyond the trees snapped Castiel’s thoughts into the present. Time later to ponder. He spun on his heels and ran to find Sam.

 

 

(to be continued)

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

 

There was a thick cloud of acrid smoke moving through the settlement, the haze from rifles and muskets being fired coagulating in the air. It made it hard to see, difficult to breathe and Castiel kept his sword at the ready. He was no stranger to battle, to the thick of fighting or warfare. The shouts rattling around him in the smoke were expected. The chaos of a garrison descending on a settlement to route out enemies of the Crown were Castiel’s bread and butter. He wasn’t surprised at the raid on the cove, nor was he surprised at their tactic of coming over land to step in behind the settlement, near the orchards at its rim.

What did surprise him was that whomever was commanding this raid, they were using methods and formations that the American’s had used during that revolutionary war. Ambushes and sneak attacks, techniques gleaned from the Native Americans. Whoever the Commander was, his stealthy strikes had placed the pirates in trouble. They were used to defending against the regimented styles of the Spanish and the formal ways of Castiel’s royal men at arms.

Bodies lay strewn on the cobblestone ways, across paths, in doorways. The blacksmith’s was engulfed in fire, as was the ship in dry dock. The black smoke from them was vomiting high into the Caribbean sky.

Sam was at Castiel’s flank, his sword drawn as well as his odd dagger. They were alongside the Seraph now, creeping against her hull on the dock to make sure there were no troops lying in wait for them.

Bobby and Ellen had taken their household and disappeared down into underground lair to hide and wait out the attack. The bulk of Sam and Dean’s crew were on the Seraph now, and Castiel could see they had raised anchor, though the ship was still tied off to the dock at her prow.

Sam leaned over Castiel’s back to come close to Castiel’s ear to whisper, “If there are troops on the gangplank, are you going to keep me from dispatching them?”

Castiel glanced back at Sam, “Don’t ask stupid questions. My oath is sworn to you and Dean.” Then he added, “Could you at least make an attempt to leave the soldiers breathing?”

“No promises Cas…..” Sam slid around Castiel and made his way in a half crouch down along the dock.

Castiel cast a glance back the way they had come. He had no idea where Garth and Dean were. He had no knowledge of where Dean had disappeared after the duel, where Dean had gone. Castiel had hoped that Dean was on the Seraph already and that was the reason the anchor was up. He turned back to where Sam had slunk off, to find Sam nowhere in sight now either. The smoke from the fires was swallowing the dock, the wind drawing it around the Seraph to shroud her. Castiel’s first thought was that even if Dean was not aboard, they should pull the Seraph out of her place along the dock. If the wind was pushing smoke, it could bring sparks and flame as well. Castiel didn’t want to chance catching the Seraph on fire.

Castiel hastened along the dock to the gangplank to find it empty and devoid of people. He raced up the gangplank, his eyes beginning to sting and water from the smoke. He crested the top of the plank and stepped onto the main deck when a gust of wind shifted from the other direction and blew the smoke up and away in a dramatic swirl clearing Castiel’s view of the ship.

The sight that confronted his eyes now made him wish the smoke had remained.

Half of the regiment of royal soldiers was there, weapon’s drawn and ready. And they had captives. Sam and Dean’s crew were dirty, beaten and shackled, left in a pile in the center of the deck. Castiel could see Christina was among them; they all had wounds, and Jo was frightfully pale. Next to them, Inias and Samandriel were standing and bound. Indignant looks were across their faces.

Close to them, Sam and Dean were on their knees, bent over, arms bound behind them. Sam was growling and struggling, but Dean was slumped and swaying. It was then that Castiel saw the wound on Dean’s head, the crimson gash near Dean’s ear having made a curtain of red along Dean’s neck. Something deep inside Castiel shifted and rolled in a twist in his gut. Somehow he got the idea in his head that he had failed here somehow. That Dean being hurt so was wrong, that Sam bound like this was wrong, that their capture was something Castiel should have prevented.

Castiel winced as his gut clenched up tightly.

“Ah, what have we here?” A smug voice caught Castiel’s ears and Castiel turned.

A man in Commander’s attire and dress was slowly making his way down the steps from the gun deck, two Lieutenants to either side of him.

“Commander Ainslee…..” Castiel recognized the man, knows he was assigned to Barbados two years ago. He also recalls meeting him once during an officer’s gala, and found the man’s support of slavery distasteful. What he could be doing here on Tortuga was a puzzle.

“You’ll put your weapon down now Mr. Novak.” Commander Ainslee smiled coldly, efficiently. “And pray tell us Sir, what you and the Seraph are doing in this notorious hive of scum and villainy? Where are your Captain and the rest of your crew?”

Castiel clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. For a long cool moment Castiel felt as if he could take these men. All of them. It was as if some crucial bit of information was escaping him and if he could just remember what it was….

“I find it odd Mr. Novak…. Here you are, a noted Officer in his Majesty’s navy, still armed and moving freely… yet so are these rabble, these detestable vermin, these… pirates.” Commander Ainslee spat out the last word as if the form of it on his tongue was offensive. “What has become of your duty Sir?”

Castiel twisted his hand tighter on his sword and met the other Commander’s smirk with an unflinching gaze but remained silent.

Commander Ainslee let out a bored sigh, “Take him.”

In the end, it took fifteen men to subdue and disarm Castiel, and in the scuffle Castiel had brought ten of their men unconscious before he was stopped. When he was finally forced to his knees and bound, he met Sam’s eyes and gave the younger Winchester a silent apology for being taken, for not rescuing he and Dean and the others. Sam looked dumbfounded and in awe at what Castiel had managed to do. In unison they both turned to look at Dean, concern in their eyes.

It was then that it occurred to Castiel that Garth was not among the prisoners and Castiel clung to that bit of hope.

 

 

 

 

 

The prisoners had been loaded into the cargo hold. The crew and other pirates that had been captured in the settlement were kept in long rows, iron chains linking them and holding them seated and bowed to the floor. Inias and Samandriel had been less fortunate. Marked for court marshal for deserting their duties they were stretched, feet manacled to the floor but their arms pulled over their heads and anchored to the ceiling. They had been whipped and their shirts hung in bloody tatters from their backs.

Even then they were luckier than Sam, Dean and Castiel. The Winchester brothers were bound to the lower ratlines of the topgallant rigging. They had also endured the lash, and their scored skin was slick with sweat and blood. They both hung lax, with Dean falling in and out of consciousness.

Castiel had been bent over a barrel, tied down and caned until Castiel’s legs, backside and back had been covered in bruises and welts. In a few places it had even broken his skin into long bleeding slices. He had then been shoved delirious into a basket and hung from the bowsprit at the front of the ship.

Sam couldn’t even see Castiel now and feared that Cas was dead or dying.

Sam had caught that Commander Ainslee was making for Port Royal, where Sam, Dean and the other pirates would be hanged. Then their bodies would be left posted on pikes at the entry to the port, a grim warning for other pirates.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Castiel had not died.

 

He wasn’t sure how he had endured the brutal blows to his body, and then having to remain in a cramped basket hanging off the front of the ship. Exposed to the sea and the elements for two days as the Seraph sailed to Port Royal.

At one point in Castiel’s delirium he had envisioned the Seraph’s figurehead was moving. It had been dawn on the second day and her hair had been bathed in a brilliant light that made it look the same flame red as his sister Anna’s hair. He thought the angel figurehead had moved, her wings fluttering in the wind, her sword gleaming silver instead of it’s usual painted fires. She had looked at Castiel, and he thought she had mouthed out the words ‘Wake up Angel’. But the vision had died just as quickly as it had come, and Castiel had let himself be lulled into unconsciousness right after.

Now his broken body was slumped against the filthy wall of a prison holding pen, his clothing ragged and torn, and his feet bare. The Winchesters were here as well, Dean flat on his back, unconscious as maggots squirmed in the gash over his ear. Sam was slumped opposite Castiel against the other wall. Both brother’s wounds from being whipped had scabbed over and begun healing but it was cold comfort. Castiel wanted to get up, go to Sam, and kneel beside Dean to help them some how. But his body wouldn’t respond and every inch of his skin felt raw, millions of needle pricks of pain flaming his flesh.

The rest of the crew had been dumped into the cell adjacent to theirs, and Castiel wondered how many of them were still alive.

Not that it mattered. They were to be hung at dawn in the main square the next morning, all of them, including Castiel.

“I’m sorry sir, I thought the slave cells were this way…..”

One of the guards was addressing someone, and Castiel could smell a waft of some sort of cologne or perfume. With great effort Castiel dragged his head up and looked out through the bars of the cell.

Three men were standing there, viewing the prisoners from the other side of the cell bars. One man was one of the jailers, his attire nearly as filthy as Castiel’s though not as ragged. The man standing in the middle was slightly shorter and dressed in the finery of a French noble. His clothing was all in shades of cream and gold. His hat was extravagant, with haughty white plumage and he wore very fashionable stockings and shoes. He hid his face behind a large fan, so that all Castiel would see were the man’s eyes. They were amber and sparkled with a keen quickness.

The third man was taller, lanky and dressed as a servant. When he lifted his head so his hat no longer obscured his face, Castiel nearly let out a gasp.

 

It was Garth!

 

Feebly Castiel reached out to touch the bars of the cell. Did Garth see them? Did he recognize his crewmates? Had Garth seen Dean and Sam? Castiel tried to speak, to call out but all his wrecked dry throat could do was rasp out a low groan.

“Please sir, if you would kindly come hither, this way, I will show you what we have for sale….” The guard was trying to escort the man and Garth out.

“One moment…” The dandy of a man spoke and Castiel frowned, the voice suddenly so familiar it made something at the back of his mind prickle, “What curious creatures these pirates…. Wouldn’t you say?” The dandy leaned closer, bending down eye level with Castiel. Behind him, the guard moved protectively closer, while Garth slipped up to the other cell holding the rest of the crew.

Castiel’s heart sped up. Yes, Garth had seen. Garth would get them out. Save them.

Castiel moved his gaze to meet the eyes of the man dressed in the outlandish finery. His weary blue eyes met those odd golden belonging to the other man and Castiel had to frown again. The sense of knowing this person was suddenly overwhelming.

The man picked off one of his gloves, but did not lower his fan yet, did not expose his face. Carefully he began to reach for Castiel, trying to wiggle his hand through the bars to skate his fingers against Castiel’s hand. But just before they touched, the guard let out a sound of distress, and he grasped the dandy’s arm to tug him back away.

“Oh sir, you mustn’t do that! These are dangerous men, wanted criminals.” And then the guard was hustling the fancily dressed man out, calling to Garth, who was posing as the gentlemen’s manservant to come along.

But before Garth left, he slipped down to leave a small folded bit of paper by Castiel’s hand. He gave Castiel a quick wink and then he too left.

With trembling fingers Castiel picked up the small bit of paper and unfolded it.

“What does it say?” Sam’s weak voice whispered out.

Castiel read over the paper and then looked to Sam, confusion clouding Castiel’s face. “I don’t understand….. this makes no sense. It says…..”

Sam’s eyes begged Castiel to reveal what it said.

Castiel leaned his head back against the dank wall of the cell and let his hands drop limply to his sides. He took in a deep breath and then simple said….

“Trust the Trickster.”

 

 

(to be continued)


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

 

Just before the break of dawn Port Royal found itself under grey skies and a thundershower of rain. The small storm had floated in over the area some time after mid-night and had stalled over the port. The steady showers had been coming down without pause, and now the city was coated in dim bleak colours.

The air had gone chill and Castiel couldn’t stop shivering. It made his bones ache under his skin and the pinching pains of his wounds began to feel as if they were reaching deeper. Castiel began to think of his impending execution as a release.

During the night Dean had finally woken, and now the three men were huddled together in a corner for warmth. Sam sat in the middle, cradling Dean and Castiel to him in his wide stretched arms, keeping them both close. At first it had felt awkward to Castiel, not used to close physical contact like this. But as the rain had picked up and remained steady and the temperature had dropped, he found he didn’t care.

In the other cell Benny had a broken arm, Victor a dislocated shoulder that had swollen up badly over night, and Charlie had been grazed on the thigh by a musket slug. Tamara and Christina were bruised and battered but hadn’t suffered any grave injury. Jo however, had been run through on her shoulder with a sword, and Tamara had done what she could to staunch the bleeding. Jo was barely conscious.

When the jailers and the guards came to take them to the gallows, Tamara and Christina had to shoulder Jo in between them. The crew was lead out first, and then Sam, Dean and Castiel. They were shackled in a long line to each other’s feet and hampered so, they began a long slow trudge out of the jail.

The gallows were set in the center of one of the city’s squares, and a large crowd had gathered in spite of the constant rain. The gallows themselves were a tall structure whose base was a good fifteen feet from the ground and it allowed a long wagon to be parked below to catch the bodies once they were cut down. The actual gallows loomed high above, with one long row of ropes waiting.

The other pirates that had been taken in the settlement were being placed in those nooses now as a magistrate stood at the corner reading aloud their names and their list of crimes against the Crown. Once the magistrate was finished, he and the executioner looked to a nearby balcony where a regional judge sat with his entourage. The judge nodded, the magistrate turned to the executioner and the executioner pulled a tall lever.

The wood beneath the condemned pirates gave way with a loud ‘thwack’ and their bodies dropped. Some were lucky and their necks snapped right away, the sickening sound heard even over the rain. Others were not so lucky. They hung and twisted, slowly choking to death, their eyes bulging from their faces.

Christina and Tamara looked away, one out of horror and the other out of respect. Victor bowed his head and offered a silent prayer, while Benny and Charlie kept their eyes on the dying pirates. Their faces were a mix of distaste and sadness.

Sam however was looking everywhere but the gallows, his eyes searching out for Garth and whatever plans for rescue that might unfold. The crowd was a mix of workers and wealthy landowners, rich and poor alike. Sam from his vantage didn’t see Garth anywhere, but his eyes did land on the extravagantly dressed man from the previous day. He was right up close near the front, as close as he was allowed to be to the gallows. Sam frowned and continued to search for Garth.

Dean was weaving on his feet slightly, first leaning against Sam for support, and then leaning into Castiel.

“A night with you in a cell wasn’t exactly the idea I had when I said you should spend the night with me Cas…” Dean slurred out a little.

Castiel was still shivering, “I agree, the accommodations were less than desirable.”

“When we get outta here, I’m gonna make it up to ya Cas….” Dean lifted his gaze to meet Castiel’s eyes and the smeared blood and filth across his skin made the purity of the green of his irises stand out all the more.

Castiel leaned his head closer, so that their temples touched. “Dean… I…. I would have enjoyed…. knowing you better.”

Dean angled his head, tilting his face even closer to Castiel’s. “We’re not dead yet Cas….”.

There was a rough yank on their chains. Their group was now being lead up onto the gallows. The guards lined up Sam and Dean’s crew from the opposite end of the platform, their hands bound behind them; Jo, Christina, Tamara, Charlie, Benny and then Victor. Nooses were affixed around their throats and the women were afforded a hood that was now placed over their heads.

One empty noose remained, and it was then that Castiel was removed from the shackles and brought forcibly up onto the platform. Adrenaline now surging through the brothers, Sam and Dean were struggling hard against the guards that now held fast to them. Dean grew desperate and wild, as he shouted out ‘No!’ and ‘You can’t do this!’ and ‘That’s my crew up there!’ as if his protests would sway the magistrate or the executioner or the guards.

Castiel’s hands were bound behind him and the noose placed around his neck. It was pulled snug and then the magistrate began listing the names of the condemned and their crimes.

As he did so Castiel looked down to the faces of the crowd spread out before him. His body still ached terribly and he found it impossible to cease shivering. In a daze he thought he saw Inias and Samandriel, free and whole, unharmed, standing and watching Castiel with placid faces. Castiel blinked and lost track of them. It was as if they had simply faded into the crowd.

Castiel’s eyes dropped down and he saw the man from the prison, the one with the outlandish hat. The hat was the same, drooping a bit and stained darker from the rain, but the gold eyes below that hat were just as sparkling as they had been in the prison.

Only now Castiel could see the man’s face.

“Gabriel…..?” Castiel tried to lean forward, confusion skating down to his core. The rope pressed hard to his windpipe and killed the words in Castiel’s throat. How was his brother here? How was this possible?

When Gabriel simply smiled up and winked, Castiel decided he was indeed hallucinating. The trauma from the last three days must have finally broken his mind.

Castiel let his shoulders slump and he closed his eyes.

“…… Castiel James Novak, former Officer of the Crown. Hung now by his neck until death for treason, desertion, conspiracy, collusion with pirates, theft of His majesty’s property….” The magistrate’s voice droned on.

Castiel sighed out a long deep breath. He felt weightless and oddly calm, as if his body would just float up into the air and the only thing that would keep him tethered would be the noose about his neck. A low strange buzzing was growing in his ears now, the likes of which he had never heard before. He let his head sag back a bit. Somewhere in the distance Castiel could hear Dean screaming his name.

 

And then abruptly there was nothing under his feet and he was falling.

 

 

 

  
 

 

 

 

There was the inevitable snap, a loud crunch as bones were stressed beyond their tolerance and they broke, hangman’s noose burning against flesh as it squeezed.

That buzzing sound exploded louder, and then a bright blue white heat flashed intense and unchecked from Castiel’s core. It flared up from somewhere deep inside his gut and launched out, lancing through his entire body.

For a brief second Castiel felt as if he had wings. Great arching constructs shining with the infinite depth of space and stars. And around his head he felt a bright circlet of light that echoed through his whole being.

Just as quickly as these sensations were there, they were gone and Castiel felt himself landing atop a lump of a dead body. The noose was still around his throat and his hands were still bound behind his back. He opened his eyes to find himself under the dark space beneath the gallows, lying atop one of the bodies of a previously executed pirate.

Suddenly there was a loud crack of a whip and a shout, and the wagon carrying Castiel and the other bodies jerked forward. It careened out from under the gallows and plowed past the crowd, increasing speed as it went. Castiel was knocked about roughly and he tried to lift his head to see what was happening. The rain was coming down harder now and soaking through his wrecked clothing.

Garth was at the front of the wagon, spurring the horses that were pulling it to flee from the square. Castiel looked back over his shoulder to see the rest of the crew, still alive, lying in a similar state as he was. Still bound with their nooses and hoods on them, the ends of those nooses looking as if they had been burnt through instead of cut.

Motion at the back of the wagon caught Castiel’s eye. Sam and Dean were climbing into the rear of the wagon, as if they had caught it as it had sped past them. Their hands and feet were no longer shackled.

The wagon hit rough cobblestones and it bounced Castiel up and down hard. He realized then that the aches and pains from his caning wounds were gone, and the deep fatigue from the days confined in the basket was lifted. He felt healed, energized and whole.

Garth took the next turn a but harder and everyone in the back of the wagon slid against it’s side, rolling with the limp dead bodies that were there with them. Sam frowned with annoyance, but Dean…..

Dean’s face was lit up with boyish delight, his green eyes aglow. They had slipped past Death once again.

The sound of a musket discharging caught Castiel’s attention then, and the slug from it sailed over Castiel’s shoulder to bury itself into the rim of the wagon. Wide-eyed but cautious, Castiel lifted his head a bit more to look behind the wagon.

They were rattling through the narrow streets of Port Royal and behind them hot on their trail were mounted guards brandishing muskets and swords.

Castiel ducked back down as Garth yelled to Dean, offering a rifle. Garth tossed it back and Dean crawled over his crewmates to get at it. As he reached over Castiel he grinned and winked. Then he curled his fingers around the rifle and made his way back to the rear of the wagon.

They took another hard turn and the wagon nearly went up on two wheels.

“Where th’ hell we goin’ Garth?!” Benny called out. It seemed like the wagon was running itself through the maze of the backstreets of Port Royal.

The wagon made another sharp turn, this time in the opposite direction and Castiel heard the clatter of the wheels on a wood surface. He lifted his head again and saw they were running along a dock and just when Castiel thought they were turn and head for one of the ships, Garth took short hard whip of a turn that took them through the open doors of a warehouse. The double doors they had entered slammed shut behind them on their own as Garth reigned in the frantic horses.

Quickly and quietly Dean leapt out of the wagon. Garth jumped down to uncouple the horses and lead them off into another part of the warehouse. The rest of the crew, including Castiel, slowly sat up as Sam went about cutting them free of all their ropes. Charlie and Tamara ripped their hoods from their heads and flung them away in anger.

“Great Blackbeard’s Ghost!” Benny cried out, half hushed but half not.

“Saints alive!” Charlie exclaimed when she saw what Benny was looking at. Benny's arm was no longer broken.

Their wounds were healed. All of them.

Benny’s arm and Victor’s shoulder, and Jo looked healthy and whole again.

“What is God’s creation is happening here?” Victor extended his arm, marveling at its lack of pain. “Is this possible? What could have done this?”

“Do you see the ends of the ropes…. Severed by fire they were.” Tamara raised the end of a noose to inspect it closer.

Sam reached to touch where he had met with the lash and all those wounds were gone, as if they had never existed in the first place. “I don’t understand….” His eyes met Dean’s and Dean just shook his head.

“No idea. And we don’t have time to fuss with it…” Gripping the rifle Dean ran after Garth.

Once they were free, the rest of the crew climbed out of the wagon and followed. Garth led them all through a side exit of the warehouse and down through a narrow alleyway. Carefully Garth slipped down the alley and then paused at the end. He stepped into the street just beyond, took off his hat and waved it, then ducked back into the alley with the rest of the crew.

A moment later a large carriage came thundering up, and when it stopped, Garth signaled everyone to follow. He opened the carriage door and pulled out a pile of folded clothing. He handed those to Benny and Victor, and they saw that it was the same manner of dress Garth was wearing. Garth dismissed the coach driver, then climbed up to take his seat. Benny and Victor dressed swiftly, while the rest of the crew got into the carriage. Once they were inside, Dean gave the rifle to Victor and he shut the door.

Benny joined Garth in the front seat, and Victor took up riding on the back outside of the carriage.

Soon the coach was moving, and Garth spurred the horses into an even, unrushed cant.

Inside the coach, it was richly appointed with brocade and silk, and the windows were blocked off with thick curtains so no one could see inside. Several of the crew were talking quietly about their injuries being healed, while Castiel just leaned his head against one of the curtained windows.

He closed his eyes and let out a relieved sigh, but down in his bones that strange energy was still buzzing. He felt tingly all over, as if a jolt of lightening had burned through him. In his mind bits of images flickered through his head. The circlet of light, a thin silver sword, the great dark wings. He felt as if he should know these things, understand them, know them. But they danced at the edges of his mind and wouldn’t settle, calm or give him any answers.

Weary, Castiel let his body sag in his seat and he allowed unconsciousness to overtake him.

 

 

(to be continued)


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

When Castiel woke, it’s to the sound of someone stirring something in a china teacup, the metal spoon making telltale tinkling sounds. Castiel lifted his head and found himself in a lavish four-poster bed, replete with heavy velvet canopy and curtains, thick goose down pillows and spun cotton bedding. A luxurious deep indigo robe was draped at the end of the bed and Castiel pulled it to himself. He was also astonishingly naked.

As he slid out of bed and donned the robe, he took in the details of the room. It was just as extravagant as the bed, with baroque art and décor everywhere. It looked as if it were a room in a palace someplace. The tall floor to ceiling windows stood open, more doorways than windows, gauzy cotton curtains billowing in the light morning breeze.

The sound of a teacup being placed on its saucer caught Castiel’s ears and he realized the sounds were coming from the balcony beyond the open windows. Castiel cinched his robe closed and stepped out through an open window.

The balcony was more of a patio, stretching along the side of a magnificent manor house that sat on a tall hill over looking Port Royal a mile or two below. Perfectly manicured bushes and topiary dotted the edges of the patio; the occasional polished marble sculpture tastefully placed here and there.

“Ah good, you’re awake.” A cheery voice greeted Castiel and he turned to find his brother Gabriel seated at a small patio table, a small spread of tea and cakes on perfectly elegant china resting atop it.

Gabriel was dressed much as he had been at the gallows and in the prison. Ornate satins and velvets, delicate flourishes of lace, the sort of thing one would find a King wearing.

Castiel made no attempt at hiding his abject and utter confusion. “Gabriel what are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that… and where are we?”

“Good Morning to you too Commander Grumpy.” Gabriel poured a second cup of tea for Castiel and motioned to the other seat at the table. When Castiel just stood there, head tilted and eyes squinting, Gabriel raised his brows and gestured with exasperation again at the empty chair.

Castiel let out a heavy sigh and came over to sit. Gabriel handed Castiel his cup of tea and then offered a large bowl heaped with sugar cubes that Castiel declined. Gabriel poured himself another cup and then proceeded to drop in six cubes for himself. As he stirred, his spoon made that light little tinkling sound that had woken Castiel.

Castiel sat back in his chair and his shoulders faded down, “I’m dreaming. I must be. You’re back at the Blue Ship in The Haven…..”

“No such place.” Gabriel reached for one of the little cakes on the table. “And it’s not ‘The Haven’…. It’s Heaven. You’re an angel Castiel. You’re probably remembering some soul’s heaven you popped into one Tuesday afternoon….. I doubt you’ve ever actually been anywhere near West Sussex.”

Castiel squinted his eyes more and scrunched his nose up, “Gabriel what are you talking about?!”

Gabriel halted in mid bite of the cake and gave Castiel a long odd look. Then he carefully set down the cake and brushed the crumbs from his fingers. He turned his body more towards Castiel, “Castiel, what exactly do you remember of your existence?”

“I am Master and Commander of the Seraph…. Or was until The Winchesters stole her. For six years aboard that ship. I recall battles and skirmishes, being at sea, being a respected and trusted member of His Majesty’s Royal Navy.” Castiel said then took a small sip of the tea.

Gabriel raised a brow, “And before that?”

Castiel stopped and looked down into his teacup. “Well, I remember growing up at the Pub, with you and Anna and Michael and….”

“Castiel… the memories you have of us at… at this ‘Haven’…. Compare them to the memories you have of being on the Seraph.” Gabriel gave Castiel a moment, and he bit his cake in half, chewing with a nearly overly full mouth.

Castiel frowned slightly, still looking into the deep amber of the tea, the cup cradled carefully in his hands. His memories onboard the Seraph were clear, sharp, easily recalled. But his memories of his childhood were hazy, brightly lit, but fuzzy. As if the details didn’t exist, only the suggestion of things. Castiel tried to recall now his youth, his coming of age or of actually leaving home and he found he could not. Worry clouded his eyes as he looked back at Gabriel.

Gabriel waved a hand at Castiel and smiled, “Stop that. You aren’t crazy. You don’t have head trauma or anything like that. At least not in your cranium there, and it’s not permanent.” Gabriel lifted the rest of the cake to bite into it but paused, “At least I don’t think it is….Your real memories will come back soon enough. You probably suppressed them on purpose for some goofy reason.”

“You still aren’t making any sense….” Castiel sighed with exasperation.

Gabriel shrugged as he devoured the rest of his cake with a smile. Obviously not willing to go any further with this topic of conversation.

“Can you at least tell me where we are? And why you are wearing those outrageous clothes?” Castiel put his tea down.

“This is the estate of one Matthew Lewis, land owner, sugar plantation owner…. And quite unfortunate for him….a slave owner.” Gabriel picked up a sugar cube and wagged his brows. “I’m here little brother, to start a slave rebellion and give some of these snooty rich boys their come-uppance.”

Gabriel leaned back and gestured to the finery he was wearing, “And you don’t like the threads? I like them. Very Louis the Sixteenth. I’m going for irony here….”

Castiel raised a brow, unsure of the slang his brother was using. So Castiel stuck with what he did recognize. “You… you are planning on starting a slave rebellion?”

Gabriel just grinned and reached for another cake. “Enough about me, let’s discuss the Winchesters and how you saved their lives yesterday.” Gabriel paused, waving the hand holding the cake around a bit, “No, scratch that, I was there, I saw. That’s boring. Let’s instead talk about how you are going to get the Winchesters to New Orleans and this oath you’ve sworn to them.”

Castiel opened his mouth to prod Gabriel about the rescue, about how they had all been miraculously healed and freed, but then something else occurred to him. “Where are the Winchesters now? And the rest of the crew?”

“Don’t you mean where is Dean?” Gabriel nibbled at the cake, his eyes glittering with delight. “They’re all here.” He spoke around the mouthful of cake, then swallowed. “Dean was so fussy about everything let me tell you.” Gabriel square off his shoulders and mimicked Dean’s voice, “My crew better come to no harm!! We’re keeping our weapons!!”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, “Blah blah blah….Until he figured they were all safe here, and then he calmed down. They’re probably having breakfast in that great big dining room downstairs. Or maybe in the kitchens. I dunno. I sent all the servants away and gave the slaves all papers saying they were free men so where-ever land locked pirates would rustle up grub…..you’ll find them there.” Gabriel mumbled the rest as he finished off the rest of the cake in his hand.

Castiel nodded and sighed. “Do I at least have some reasonable clothing to wear?”

Gabriel swallowed and motioned back the way Castiel had come, “There is a wardrobe full of stuff for you in the room you were sleeping in. Don’t be afraid, I picked out things I know you’d like.”

Castiel stood up and began to walk back to the room.

“Castiel….” Gabriel’s voice was now serious but kind, “You have a mission to complete, and I… I will not be helping you once you leave this estate. I have to stay here, stir the pot. I can’t tolerate what’s happening here in the West Indies. But you….” Gabriel’s went softer, “You must stick to your mission and help the Winchesters. If Azazel continues to roam free…..”

Castiel paused, one hand lingering on part of the open windows frame as he looked back at Gabriel. “I’ve failed part of my mission haven’t I? I feel like I have…..”

“I thought maybe you had too, but now I’m not so sure after meeting Sam and Dean.” Gabriel said frankly.

“What do you mean?” Castiel clenched his hand slightly.

Gabriel sat a moment, pondering as if he was choosing his next words carefully. “There is a lot you still need to remember Castiel and I’m not sure if I’m the one that should clue you in… but know this… Your mission was to protect the Righteous Man. I thought it was John Winchester. But now?” Gabriel gave a little shrug, then sat back and picked up another cake.

Castiel looked away and up, his eyes taking in the brilliant blue skies above him, the same color as his own eyes. Protect the Righteous Man? That sounded correct, it rang true deep in the very core of himself. Could Sam or Dean be that man? Could a known pirate be righteous? And Gabriel, here in the Caribbean, on some mission of his own to end slavery here among the islands… Talking cryptically about who they were and about Castiel’s memories. Castiel ran his fingers through his hair, his fingertips rubbing against his scalp. Perhaps he was still suffering the effects of being dangled from the bowsprit for two days. This was all so insane.

 

 

 

   


 

 

 

Castiel dressed, washed up a bit in the basin in the room even though he found his body to be the cleanest it had been in weeks. He left his room, made his way down through the long corridor past the other bedrooms, then down a large sweeping staircase to an entry foyer. From here Castiel could make out boisterous laughter falling like music from somewhere beyond the back of the stairs.

Castiel followed the sound to find himself in the massive estate kitchen. The crew was gathered casually around the huge fireplace, stew pots steaming with potato soup and fresh bread keeping warm on the hearth.

Sam was seated on a chair next to the butcher block, his feet propped up and his impossibly long legs stretched out languidly. He was clutching a tankard, smiling over the rim, cheeks dimpled. Next to him Garth was laughing long and loud, as was Benny across from them. Victor was rolling his eyes, stifling a smile while the others in the room giggled or laughed, easy and free.

Jo saw Castiel first, and she jumped up to come over to him, wrapping her arm around his to escort him to join the group. “You are just in time Castiel, Garth was telling us about the time Victor spent an evening trying to out sing a howling dog…”

“No such thing happened….” Victor tried to scowl but the smile broke out, followed by a deep laugh, “I’m just envious because that dog could hold a note better than I.”

As the crew burst out in fresh laughter Castiel looked them all over. They all were wearing new clothing, their skin scrubbed clean and fresh. They looked healthy, whole and happy, and a raw place deep inside Castiel ached because he wanted them to remain like this always.

And he knew without a doubt that in the coming days they would meet dire times.

Charlie must have seen the smile that had been on his face fall away to be replaced by something more grim. She reached over to Castiel and placed a tankard of fresh water into his hands, then offered him some bread and honey. He took it all gladly and with thanks, and settled to eat, listening to the crew spill out more tales of their previous adventures.

When they were done eating and each crew member took up a task to clean up and tidy the kitchen, Castiel made to assist as well but Sam stopped him and pulled him aside near the back door that lead out of the kitchen area.

“Your brother’s hospitality and his saving us, helping Garth to aid us in escaping…. How can we repay him?” Sam gave off a shy smile, as if he was not accustomed to anyone but his own family and crew being kind to him.

“He lives to cause discord and mayhem.” Castiel rolled his eyes, “The expression on the magistrate’s face alone as we fled was probably payment enough.”

“Gabriel is…. Unusual.” Sam conceded. “And an incorrigible flirt.” He added with a light chuckle.

“Was he unseemly towards the girls?” Castiel took on an indignant look.

“Uhm… no…. He was open with Jo and Tamara that he found them lovely, but not to the point that was distasteful. And well.....” the light blush that came to Sam’s cheeks told Castiel that Gabriel’s attentions had not been focused entirely on the ladies. “He’s been awarding me quite a bit of attention.” Sam smiled, ending Castiel’s scowl as it began. “I am not offended. Just surprised and unaccustomed to being admired by a gentleman.”

“If he becomes a nuisance, please inform me instantly Sam, I will not have my brother playing his tricks on my….” Castiel paused and then found the words ring true, “…my friends… nor will I allow him in making them feel discomfort…” The words were said plainly but there was an obvious fondness to Castiel’s voice.

Sam smiled wider at Castiel, “Speaking of brothers who can be a nuisance….”

Castiel raised a brow, “Dean?”

“Two nights now he’s not been able to try to collect on the terms from the duel you lost.” Sam seemed immensely amused by this.

Castiel felt heat rise up under his collar and he cleared his throat, looking away. “Yes, well. Technically we shared the night in the prison. That could count.”

Sam placed an arm around Castiel and lead him out of the kitchen into a back courtyard and garden area, “Do you want that to count as payment of the debit?”

Castiel let Sam see the honesty in his eyes, that he was unsure what he wanted with Dean.

Sam dampened his smile and nodded. “Perhaps you should go talk to Dean now. He went back into the gardens. If you follow that pathway through the trees I’m sure you’ll find him.”

Sam pointed to a stone path that wound back through the gardens, back between rows of large calla lily bushes. Their leaves were wide, glossy and deep green. Their flowers were lifted to the skies like white trumpet horns of angels.

Castiel took a deep breath, nodded and then stepped away from Sam to make his way along the path. He walked for a few moments, the garden expanding and eventually becoming merged with the lush native foliage of the island. The path ended but nearby by Castiel could hear the sound of rushing water, so he followed that, carefully making his way over the uneven ground. He pondered things as he wove his way along, his thoughts disjointed. He was so filled with questions, so many unknowns. And so much of it felt as if it were close at hand. It was as if he could see their shapes just at the corners of his eyes, just out of sight. As if he could turn swiftly he would see the answers he was looking for.

He hadn’t gone far when the thick vegetation opened up to a small hidden fresh water lagoon, its sparkling water fed by a small waterfall and surrounded by wide flat dark slate stones. Hundreds of flowers bobbed and swayed, dappled with droplets from the misting water.

Castiel let out a small sigh. It was a tiny secluded paradise.

A loud snort drew Castiel up short, and someone came out from under the small falls. They shook the water from their head, sputtering water from their mouth. When they smoothed their hands over their face, pushing the water away, Castiel found the air in his chest caught and held.

Dean was nude, bathing in the waterfall.

 

 

(to be continued)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Porn in this chapter: frottage. Just an FYI.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading. =)

 

 

 

Dean looked up to find Castiel in a half turn trying to make his escape away from the lagoon. “Cas….?” Dean called, delight in his voice.

Castiel froze and felt his heart pounding in his chest. “Excuse me, I didn’t mean to….”

“You didn’t. I mean, it’s fine.” There was an eager look in Dean’s eyes. He was a little over waist deep in the water, the edges of it lapping at his ribs. “Don’t go.”

Castiel swallowed, then slowly turned back around. He stood somewhat awkwardly on one of the large flat rocks, his hands clasped behind his back. “Very well…. There are things I would speak to you about, if you are…” He cleared his throat, “Not too immersed in other things.”

A little smile came over Dean’s face and he drew a few fingers across the surface of the rippling water. “Did you just make a joke Cas?”

Castiel’s face looked pleased, his eyes dancing a little, some of the awkwardness easing off slightly. “Sam said I should come find you.”

Dean’s smile went a little bigger and he floated away from where the falls hit the lagoon. Only his head and the tops of his shoulders were showing now, peaks of freckled tan skin in contrast to the blue of the water.

Castiel realized the bottom of the lagoon was sandy, and lighter than the surrounding stones but the ripples and the surface reflecting the sun kept Castiel from seeing the rest of Dean’s body. Which on one hand eased Castiel’s conscience but on another level left Castiel oddly fidgety.

“So what did you want to discuss with me?” Dean dipped his head down a bit more, his chin just in the water.

“Well, we should talk about finding a ship so we can reach New Orleans…” Castiel began.

“I’m sorry…. What?” Dean rose up a bit and angled his ear in Castiel’s direction. When Cas began to speak a little louder Dean cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Cas, I’ll get a crick in my neck looking up at you like this. Just come down into the water.”

Instantly Castiel’s eyes went a little wide.

“C’mon Cas, you can swim right?” Dean leaned back a bit in the water and moved his arms lazily.

Castiel swallowed and nodded.

“Well then?” Dean shifted and hid his growing grin under the water’s edge.

Castiel sat down on one of the stones along the edge, noting that Dean had piled and draped all his clothing and boots nearby. He pulled off his own boots, then stood and let his tan overcoat slide off his shoulders. He tried not to note that Dean had sunk nearly nose deep in the water while watching Castiel’s every move.

Castiel unbuttoned his bright blue waistcoat, removed it and let it rest on top of his coat. He pulled off his kerchief from around his throat, then pulled his shirt off over his head. Taking a deep breath he gripped the waist of his beeches and pulled them down and off, then his stockings and garters as well.

He didn’t look at Dean, couldn’t look at Dean. The blush that was now dusting over Castiel’s face was as obvious as his now fully bared skin. He also felt that flush begin to creep lower due to Dean’s gaze. He shouldn’t feel such nervousness at being nude in front of another man. On a ship at sea, sailors were naked around each other often, their bodies’ modesty inconsequential. But here in front of Dean it was potent, and all their previous encounters tinted the very air between them now.

Castiel stepped to the edge of the pool, and still without looking at Dean, carefully dipped into the water. It was much cooler than he was expecting and a small shiver raced up his legs and over his body as he sunk down. It was a welcome relief to the building blood flow that was gathering below his waist.

“Dunk under, real quick like. You’ll adjust to the temperature faster.” Dean explained and then he dunked under as an example.

Castiel did so, and when he came up he steadied his feet on the sandy bottom of the lagoon. He pushed the water from his face and combed his fingers back through his hair as he opened his eyes.

Dean was hovering quite close, and Castiel nearly startled. Dean half walked, half floated to come shoulder to shoulder with Castiel, relaxing back against one of the smooth rocks behind them. He didn’t look at Cas, just let his eyes wander around the lagoon.

“I figured we would just retake the Seraph. She’s not as fast as the Impala, but she’d get us to New Orleans in fair time.” Dean stretched and let his hands rest behind his head. The water now lingering just below his pectoral muscles on his chest and his peaked nipples.

Castiel looked away quickly, aware that the warmth in his cheeks was still apparent. Regardless of the cool water, the heat between his legs was returning. Castiel still could not fathom this power Dean’s presence held over him. He made to keep his mind from it and replied, “The Seraph will be heavily guarded now, with a full regiment sitting in her hull. You got lucky on that island when you stole her before…."

“Did I?” Dean’s voice was at Castiel’s shoulder, and when Cas turned his head quickly he found Dean’s green eyes ever so close. They flickered and glinted as the sunlight reflected of the water and into their depths.

“Did you what?” Castiel whispered, mesmerized and surprised by Dean’s closeness.

“Get lucky?” Dean leaned in closer, his eyes now half closed as they zeroed in on Castiel’s mouth.

“Y…yes, yes of course…..” Castiel stammered a little, flustered. His heart was beginning to staccato in his chest. “The crew was asleep on the shore, you snuck in….”

“I did sneak in….” Dean smiled a little again, lifting his mouth close enough to Castiel’s that his breath purred against the corner of Castiel’s mouth.

“Under the cover of darkness…” Castiel let out a tiny sound from the back of his throat and let his eyes fall closed. That feeling, the pull and sway that tugged at Castiel and drew him to Dean was overwhelming.

“Cas….” The name came out of Dean’s mouth quietly but weighted with longing, “I want to kiss you….. let me kiss you Castiel.”

Castiel nodded, barely. His whole body felt like it had on the gallows, as if he was more than just weightless from the water. He felt held like a bubble, quivering on a light air current yet everything tingled under his skin. “Y…yes, yes Dea….”

Castiel didn’t get Dean’s full name out before Dean was on him, catching their mouths together in an open kiss. Dean’s hands were on him, cradling Castiel’s face and drawing their bodies close under the water. Dean canted Castiel’s face a little and deepened the kiss with barely restrained hunger. Castiel felt their legs brush under the water, shifting their footing so they would stay up and not sink under.

Dean severed the kiss only long enough to take in a breath before he was bringing Cas back in, licking his tongue between Castiel’s parted lips. They kissed and kissed, as if Dean would never get enough of the taste of Cas’ mouth, and with each passing moment Castiel felt himself melt more into Dean, that floating feeling was now more like soaring.

Dean began to slow the kisses, ease them until finally he quit and pressed their foreheads together, his eyes closed. “I know Sam told you I dreamt of you.”

All Castiel could do now was nod in affirmation, his hands clinging to Dean’s shoulders and flexing against Dean’s skin. Inside his gut was trembling while the rest of his body had gone hot. He licked his lips once, chasing the taste of Dean on them before he finally said, “He mentioned it. Will you speak of them to me?”

Dean didn’t move, but his voice went hushed. “When I was small, I would dream about my mom’s death. The fire, her screams. But then when I was coming into manhood, they changed. I still dreamt of fire, and screaming… but it wasn’t from that night. Now there was blood, lakes of it, and awful writhing black creatures made of smoke and ash. They would cut into me, rake me with claws and teeth, rend me to shreds.” Dean’s breath went quicker and his hold on Castiel’s face went stiff.

Castiel’s eyes blinked open.

“But then there was always this light that would come,” Dean nosed against Castiel’s cheek, “So bright, so beautiful. Shining like heaven. It had the form of a man, strong and able and he would reach out, grip me tight and raise me from that perdition.”

Dean pulled back, enough that when he opened his eyes he could look at Castiel, “He would burn his hand print into my flesh, at the shoulder, but it did not sear even though it left a mark. It filled me with such joy, such peace. And his eyes….”

Castiel felt that interior buzz singing up through his body again. It made him nervous, yet excited.

“His looked much like yours Castiel.” Dean let his eyes roam wildly over Castiel’s forehead, nose, cheeks, jaw, mouth. Finally stopping to lock his eyes on Cas, “And I always knew him to be an Angel, come to deliver me, to help Sam and I. But I never hoped he was real, that I could touch him…Hold him.”

Castiel could feel that buzzing now vibrating between he and Dean. But now it was deeper and it sang sweet through Castiel’s very bones. He ached to have Dean touch him now, everywhere, and not stop.

“To find you real, alive, walking about….. so solid, so beautiful.” Dean almost groaned, “And skilled at the sea and deadly with a blade to boot. You are beyond my dreams Cas and I want…. Oh how I want you….”

A fast flash of images abruptly ran riot through Castiel’s mind. The dark wings again, the silver blade, the holy light inside and outside of him. They were followed by rapid blinks of images, laying siege to someplace dark and evil, cutting a swath of light through that hellish realm to reach a sparkling soul and the unfettered blinding ecstasy when the brightness of him connected with that glittering soul.

That ecstasy washed over Castiel now and he found himself gripping Dean, shoving him against the smooth rocks and covering Dean with his body as he dove in to claim Dean’s mouth with his own. Castiel pushed and pressed, embracing Dean tight while trapping Dean against the rock.

“You want me…..” Castiel pulled back once to look at Dean, one hand on Dean’s lower hip while the other had moved behind Dean’s head. Cas let his charged and hooded gaze run over Dean’s features. Dean was flushed and smiling drunkenly, lips worn full from their kissing. Castiel raised one brow, “Then have me.”

Dean let out a happy gasp and his hands went instantly into Castiel’s hair, yanking Cas down roughly so that they would kiss again. They could feel each others insistent and engorged cocks squeezed against the other’s hip, and Castiel began to rock and slide against Dean under the water, making the man groan into their kiss.

Their mouths wandered as the thrust and drag of their bodies caught, rolled, rubbed. Dean pulled Castiel’s head aside to lengthen out the dark haired man’s throat, to which Dean began to suck and mark.

“D…Deannn…. I’m…. I….” Castiel breathed out short, quick. The buzzing inside him had reverberated down, thrumming with his heartbeat, tightening in his groin. His cock was throbbing harder and firmer than Castiel ever recalled. He began to jerk in his thrusts, clinging to Dean.

“B…blood and hounds Cas!” Dean choked out, “The feel of you…!”

Castiel’s eyes were already squeezed shut, tight. His mouth open, panting as his body shivered and worked against Dean. Their shafts were rutting with abandon against each other and Castiel could not think or speak. The feeling of their skin to skin, the maddening build of this surging need to release and hearing Dean’s breath hitch and shudder brought Cas up into a spinning dizzy place. Dean flattened his cheek against Castiel’s and groaned.

Then suddenly Castiel’s mind felt as if it flipped and all he could see was distorted haze. The building fever of energy inside him snapped. It was so intense his whole body twitched hard with a jolt. His cock pulsed fierce, shooting his release between their stomachs. His body was tumbling, quivering as the pleasure swept through his body like a wildfire. Castiel’s mouth gaped open in a silent cry and Dean’s arms clenched hard around him. Dean was making these soft high sweet sounds and Castiel realized that Dean was awash in his own orgasm as well. Castiel couldn’t remember why he had been fighting against this, why he had been so adamant in his resistance to Dean.

Their bodies trembled together as if they were still moving. They clung close, peppering each other with light giddy kisses as their heads swirled inside. Eyes opened, shining green met shimmering blue, delight and joy echoing between them.

“Cas that was….” Dean’s words were airy and the smile that came with them, delirious.

“Exceptionally pleasurable.” Castiel rumbled out, his voice low and serious in such contrast to the tawdry glow of his cheeks and the flutter of his pulse. “I would be amendable to doing that frequently with you Dean.”

“Would you now?” Dean’s face was full of playful fondness.

Castiel brought their heads together and rested his cheek to Dean’s.

“Aye my Captain, I would.”

 

 

(to be continued)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is an easter egg in this chapter - something from one of my other fics.  
> If you discover it, let me know in the comments! =D
> 
> And now, back to our scheduled adventure......

 

 

 

A week or so later Dean was on one knee, the other bent leg pressed against the thick oak door before him. Lock picking tools rolled and twirled deftly in his fingers, while and extra one dangled casually between his lips. The lock on the door was a well-crafted one, solid brass and carved as ornately as the door it was seated in. The bottom of Dean’s left eye pulled up in concentration, but beyond that he looked as if this was something he could do in his sleep.

Next to him, Castiel leaned against the wall, his eyes watching for anyone approaching. They were in the posh main building of the East India Company on the third floor, currently working their way into the office of one Mr. Fergus Crowley, Esquire.

“How much longer is this going to take?” Castiel huffed, his impatience leaking out.

“Fif you’re tho bored, thyou do thiths.” Dean murmured around the tool in his mouth before slipping it free with two fingers to employ it in picking the lock, “What’s your hurry…. Eager to get me out of my breeches again?”

Castiel glanced down at the top of Dean’s head and his eyes were tinged with desire. A half smile curled on the edge of his mouth, “It’d be a far better thing than fussing about here….”

Dean caught his look and his cheeks went rosy. “I’ve unleashed the flood gates in you….one moment the dour Commander and now the lusty rogue…” his answering smile was pleased and just a little cocky. “Now stop distracting me. Tis your idea for bein’ here anyway….. hush yourself.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and looked back down the hallway. It was true, they were here on Castiel’s request. The Seraph was in dry dock here in Port Royal, placed there by the Governor for a complete inspection after being “sullied” by pirates. It made Dean see red and he fumed about how his crew probably treated her finer than most of her assigned crew ever would.

Castiel had suggested they ‘liberate’ one of the other ships in the port, of which there were many to chose. But Dean was stubbornly determined to take the Seraph back and so the crew had been hold up at Gabriel’s estate waiting for her to touch water again. The stalemate on the topic of the ships remained after a week, Sam keeping his own council and not openly taking a side. To distract Dean and possibly take his sights off the Seraph, Castiel had brought up the topic of the mystery cargo bound for King George, also currently in Port Royal with the East India Company.

So here they were now, Dean picking the lock to Crowley’s office, Castiel at his side. Sam was down along the street somewhere watching for employees of the Company or for guards. Tamara and Jo were around the side, while Christina and Benny were at the back of the building. Garth and Victor were not far with Gabriel’s coach, ready to provide a fast escape if needed.

“You weren’t complaining about my flood gates last eve when I had my mouth all over your…..” Castiel was silenced as the lock made a definitive click and the heavy door to the office eased open slightly.

Dean, his cheeks still darkened, stood and caught up Castiel’s lips with his own. Then he pulled away just as fast to duck into the office. Castiel couldn’t help the smile that curved over his face as he followed Dean inside. He carefully shut the door behind them and relocked it.

“So what are we looking for here Cas?” Dean’s eyes swept through the large room.

The door they had come in entered near a corner of the room. Along the same wall a ceiling to floor map of the world stretched out, filling the space. Dean was momentarily caught up in awe of its detail and accuracy. He muttered quietly about how he wished Sam could see it.

The rest of the room held a huge ornate desk, cabinets and chest of various sizes and shapes, a long table with another map and very small miniature ships dotting its waters and harbors, two free standing globes and a wardrobe in a small cordoned off dressing area. But what held Castiel’s attention were the vast windows that lined the wall opposite the map. They opened to a small walkway, and the view overlooked the entire port. The closest ship, barely fifty yards from this side of the building, was Crowley’s best ship, the Cerberus.

Named for the mythical hound guarding the gates of Hell, the Cerberus was a mid-sized frigate armed with 30 guns, but was still sleek and to hear the tales, very fast. Faster than the Seraph, as Castiel recalled discussions with Captain Adler about trimming some weight from the Seraph in order to keep up with the other ship when they were to act as escort. The Cerberus was an elegant ship, all dark woods, well maintained, with deep burgundy sails to match the colors of the East India Company flag that flew from her masts.

The sound of drawers opening and closing pulled Castiel from his view of the port to find Dean searching through Crowley’s desk. “I’m not finding much here Cas…. Just standard ship schedules and other contracts.”

Castiel looked at the cabinets and the chests. None of them looked locked, or new to the room with their faint layers of dust at their edges. Castiel now took a long look at the map wall and he frowned.

“What?” Dean came around slowly to stand beside Castiel and look at the wall as well.

Castiel pointed a finger at the door they had come in, then tracked it along the wall while counting. Then he stopped and walked up close to the wall where he had stopped pointing. “The hallway outside this room ends here, yet the wall continues. There were no other doors in the hall on this side, or at the end…. So….”

Castiel carefully began to run his fingers along the map, feeling his way, his face focused. He stopped abruptly and began to run his fingers up and down the map instead of along it. When they came level with his hip he stopped. “Ah.” They rested at the center of the compass rose for the map.

Castiel pressed his fingers to it and a faint ‘click’ sounded. Part of the map next to Castiel popped open, revealing a hidden door and a hidden room beyond.

Dean let out a small chuckle, “Cas, if you get any more incredible, I’m never gonna be able to keep my hands off ya.”

Castiel frowned at Dean over his shoulder as he opened the thin door wider, “How is that an effective threat?”

Dean just grinned and ducked under Castiel’s extended arm and in through the door. The hidden room was dark with no windows and the light coming through the open door did not reach far. “Hey Cas, bring one of those oil lamps….?”

A moment or two later Castiel entered the room with Dean, one of the lamps from the desk held high.

It’s light illuminated the room partly and both men took a moment to look around. There were chests lined up, large old things that looked as if they had been pulled from the ocean floor, their hinges and latches were corroded by sea salt. Tables were piled with gold; goblets, plates, bars and tall stacks of doubloons. Smaller chests filled with pearls, jewelry, and gems were there as well. At the back, a large chair made entirely of gold had strange stylized wings and ibis bird heads carved on it. Other chests sat on small risers, and lush tapestries hung along the walls.

Dean ducked out of the room to fetch another lamp as Castiel set his down to inspect several statuettes seated on one table. He lifted one up to look at it closer.

It was solid gold, and the figure was of a skeletal man seated with his legs drawn up, his bony fingers resting on his knees. His eyes bulged wildly and his bared his skull teeth in a grim smile. On his head he wore a thick simple crown, and in its center over his forehead sat one black glittering gem.

“Whacha got there Cas?” Dean came up alongside and peered over Castiel’s shoulder.

“It’s Mictlantecuhtli.” Castiel said matter-of-factly, “The Aztec god of the underworld.”

“Mich-lan-de-cutie? That thing is not cute.” Dean screwed up his face. “How do you even know that?”

Castiel set the statue down and a confused frown came over his face. He didn’t know where he had learned this; the information had just been there in his head like a small light flickering on. He turned his concerned eyes to Dean and Dean just shook his head while squeezing his shoulder.

“Probably picked it up in some book some place. Sam does it all the time, especially after he’s been in Bobby’s library.” Dean turned around and then went still. “Speaking of Bobby’s library… check this out.”

Dean was moving cautiously towards one of the nicer chests sitting on one of the risers. It was big enough to hold a man, made of black shiny wood and it had silver inlay all over it. The silver formed sigils and symbols just like Castiel had seen on Bobby Singer’s library walls. Others etchings were carved directly into the wood without the inlay and as Dean passed the lamp in his hands over the chest, they could see what looked like blood rubbed into the wood. The lock on the chest was intricate and riddled with sigils, some so small and delicate they were impossible to make out in the dim light.

Dean didn’t touch the chest, but let his eyes roam all over it. “This is some serious demonic hoodoo. The symbols are a little confusing and I can’t read Enochian like Bobby can… but it seems like this is either designed to keep demons out or….” Dean looked at Castiel, “Keep one inside.”

“How very astute of you Dean.” A man’s voice came from the other end of the room near the door. He was dressed plainly for the time, his jacket and waistcoat muted greys trimmed in more grey. His hair was white also shot through with grey as well but more importantly; he held a musket trained on Dean and Castiel. “It is actually both. The chest’s wood is a barrier no demon can cross…. Unless of course one had the key.”

Dean brought his lamp up and took a closer look at the man. His face was plain, not attractive but not unattractive either. He seemed to be in his mid to late forties and he was as tall as Castiel. But what struck Dean as so odd was that where the light falling into the room from outside colored the door and that part of the room in bright hues, that light did not reach this man. It was as if all colour was drained away from his person, leaving him bathed in muted hues.

“Put the lamps down and come out boys. Let’s have a talk.” The man slowly backed out of the room as Dean set down his lamp.

They followed the man out into the large room beyond, careful to keep their hands lifted away from their sides.

“I’d make tea but I’m not expecting to be here long.” The man smiled and tipped his head slightly, “What was unexpected was finding you here Dean. I’m happy you and Sam avoided the gallows but I would have thought you and your fine brother would be leagues away by now.”

“Do we know each other sir? You’re awfully familiar with my name….” Dean narrowed his eyes. He stopped at the edge of the giant desk, so that he and Cas remained near the door to the hidden room. If the man delivered a shot, he felt he and Cas could take cover in the smaller room or behind the desk. Hopefully.

“Why Dean, I’m hurt. We’ve known each other for so very long and I knew your mother and your father….” The man mimicked a compassionate look, but it was false and wrong in every way.

Dean frowned, his gut growing cold. “You’re not any Hunter I know of sir…”

The man gave off an amused but empty laugh, “Oh Dean. How precious you are. I simply can not wait to come and take your cherished Sam from you….. however will that work on your small brain then?”

The man blinked and his eyes swirled yellow, their acidic colour burning against the lack of hue in the man’s very skin.

Dean swallowed hard, “Azazel!!”

The man, no, the demon grinned all tooth and menace, “Ah now we’re getting somewhere.”

Dean flexed his fingers closer to his sword hilt as his heart rate spiked. “You stay away from Sam your filthy disgusting…..”

“Tut tut.” Azazel lifted and finger to make a shushing gesture, “There is little you can do to keep me from Sam or the other children like him. Or to keep me from acquiring the cargo currently held by Crowley.” Azazel sneered openly when he spoke Crowley’s name.

As Dean snarled out more words of defiance at the demon, Castiel realized he had become very hot. Not the usual heat of the body from being in the sun, or from Dean’s erotic touches, or from exerting oneself physically. No this came from someplace deeper inside Castiel and it was the kind heat you felt from touching extreme cold. It burned so deep Castiel felt disoriented. He knew it had started when the demon had revealed itself, those yellow eyes making Castiel feel queasy. But seconds after feeling ill, this cold-hot burning had taken over, pushing up but not quite cresting inside Castiel’s gut.

Castiel felt his left hand rise of its own accord, palm flat, fingers extended, directed at Azazel. That heat began to wriggle up from inside Castiel and shoot through his arm to his fingers.

Azazel stopped his smirking taunts at Dean to look quizzically at Castiel, as if he recognized the gesture but was puzzled at its source. He was about to truly scrutinize Castiel when the office door opened and a shorter, stout man entered accompanied by several other men wearing the clothing of the East India Company retainer guards.

“What in the name of all that’s profitable is going on in here?!” The man scowled, “What are you apes doing in MY office?!?”

Azazel speared the man with a distasteful glare, “Crowley.”

For a moment Crowley went ashen, his lips whispering out “Azazel?” But just as quickly Crowley regained his composure and shouted back to his men, “Well don’t stand there! SHOOT THEM! SHOOT!!”

One man’s already raised musket went off and the slug zinged across the room to thud into Azazel’s chest.

But instead of blood blooming from the wound, or him doubling over in pain, Azazel simply smirked. “You’re going to have to do much better than that Crowley. You know no simple shot nor sword can harm me.”

Dean’s mouth opened but the sound that filled the room suddenly was not his voice or his words, but instead it was the sound of a canon’s fire. A canon fired at very close range to the room they were in. Following it was the telltale singing of air a large canon ball makes as it shoots towards its target, and that sound was growing louder by the half second.

Dean had just enough time to leap and grab onto Cas, pulling them both to the floor and half behind the desk when the canon ball crashed through the walkway and the windows and the walls, debris and broken glass shattered into the air and scattering through what was left of the room. The ball sailed through, smashed into the floor and vanished as it continued to crash into a room below. Smoke and detritus filled the air in heady clouds.

Dean pulled Castiel to his feet as he got to his own, and he was shoving Cas behind the desk towards the windows, moving as fast as possible. He could hear Crowley and his people coughing in the hallway beyond the door but Azazel was nowhere in sight.

Dean cursed and began to pick his way around the edge of the giant hole made by the canon ball, working his way onto the walkway outside.

Cas halted as he took in the damage, grasping at Dean’s hand to try to pull him back into the room, “Dean! Canon fire could mean the port is under attack. It’s not safe out there!”

Dean looked back at Cas and in one swift move twisted his arm out of Castiel’s grip only to bring it over and clasp hold of Castiel’s arm, reversing everything. With his upper hand over Cas, he tugged Castiel closer. “Do you trust me?”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed slightly, “Of course.”

Gripping to the edges of the hole, Dean made his way to the walkway and out. Castiel followed and then both came to the edge of the walkway and looked down. Smoke from the fired canon was drifting off and revealing the scene below them alongside the building.

Tamara and Jo were standing beside one of the canons mounted to a small bastion that had been built to protect the port from attack. The canon was turned around, aimed now at the building instead of out over the water, its end smoking still. Jo was leaning on part of its base, and Tamara was leaning on the long canon hammer in her hold. Both had big pleased smiles on their faces as they looked up at Dean.

“How did they know to….” Castiel stuttered a little. “They… they fired a canon into the building….”

“And how I love them both for it.” Dean laughed.

Close to the edge of the walkway a great tree spread its branches out and Dean was now leaping over to them. He caught a branch, swung to the next lower and then began to climb down to the level where Tamara, Jo and the canon were. The women began hustling down around the bastion to the docks below.

Castiel rolled his eyes, glanced back to see Crowley and his men beginning to stand up, then looked back at the tree. Dean was nearly all the way down.

Castiel took off his hat and flung it down, watched it sail a moment to the ground below. Then he jumped for the tree, making it closer to the trunk than Dean had, and began to climb down as well.

Soon he was standing beside Dean on the docks, following Dean’s gaze to the Cerberus parked in front of them. Jo and Tamara were running up its gangplank now. Its sails were being unfurled and Cas could see other members of Dean’s crew hustling over the Cerberus’ decks prepping her for launch.

“No.” Dean yelled out, “NO. NO. And NO!”

Sam appeared at the edge of one rail. His face was brilliant with his smile. “Come on Dean!”

“NO” Dean barked again.

Sam’s smile twisted down and he glared at Dean, his mouth moving into a stubborn line. “YES.”

Dean folded his arms across his chest and planted his feet firmly on the dock. “Not happening Sammy. We are not taking THAT ship!”

Still glaring at his older brother, Sam smirked, “You aren’t the only qualified Captain this crew Dean.” And with that Sam pulled away and began giving orders to raise the anchor.

“Goddammit Sam…..!” Dean growled.

Castiel placed one hand on the rope rail of the gangplank and stepped up. He looked back at Dean, his eyes gentle. “Dean, the Seraph would not be sea worthy for another fortnight. Do you really want to waste all that time when we could be on our way to New Orleans right now?”

“But Azazel is here! We can….” Dean gestured to Port Royal but he had no conviction in it.

“Your father left something on the Impala for you to use against Azazel. If he can’t be harmed by swords or musket, we’ll need whatever it is to end the demon.” Castiel held out his hand to Dean.

Dean frowned and remained where he was, mumbling about mutiny and his no good betraying crew and how they had probably been planning this for days.

The large ropes that tethered the ship to the dock slipped free and were being hauled aboard now. The gangplank groaned and Castiel, not wanting to fall into the water, quickly ran up the plank as it separated from the dock. Castiel reached the deck just as the plank hit the water and began to sink.

The Cerberus started her slow turn away from the dock.

“Dean!” Castiel called.

A shot came from behind Dean, and he turned around. Crowley’s men were now on the bastion, aiming their guns down to Dean on the dock. Another shot zipped past Dean, closer, nearly gazing Dean’s shoulder.

“Dammit.” Dean said quietly, he could hear the sounds of alarm bells being rung and more guards shouting nearby. He threw his angry eyes up to the bastion, letting go of his ire for his crew and instead directing it to Crowley’s men. “You pompous dairy-wanking dandies! Are ya crazed? Are ya off yer chump?…..Ye are all Gentleman Of Four Outs!!” Dean spat on the dock then turned and dove easily into the water.

He came up a fair ways off, far from the range of their muskets. It took him but a moment to power his way through the water and catch up to the ship. One of the tethers was dragging in the water and Dean caught it. He hoisted himself up the rope and climbed over the rail to land his feet on the deck.

He was soaked, his clothing clinging to him in irritating ways and dripping seawater all over. He pushed his hands over his face and eyes to clear them and looked up.

His crew was standing at attention, in a formation. Sam and Benny at one end of the line, their faces towards the rear of the ship, and Castiel facing the prow on the other end of the formation. Benny raised his whistle to his lips and drew out its high well-known call, piping Dean aboard.

“Captain on board!” Benny bellowed out.

Dean growled and pointed to the trajectory of the Cerberus, as she was now starting to list a little, heading right for the broadside of another ship, “What are you people doing?! Who is at the helm?!” Dean’s eyes weren’t angry now, they were dancing bright green and clear but his voice was fairly nervous.

With a laugh the crew dispersed and scattered, Victor running up to man the helm with a big smile. Sam walked past Dean, patting him on the shoulder as he did. Dean grumbled and frowned but it had no weight to it.

Castiel walked close to Dean, and with a sideways smile simply said, “Captain….” with a polite nod before he went to help ease the ship out of port.

Dean, still dripping water, marched up to the quarterdeck and took a spot beside the helm and Victor. “Let’s make haste Mr. Henricksen. I want half a league between me and that port before supper.”

“Aye Capatin.” Victor grinned.

From the gun deck Castiel glanced up at Dean. They were on their way to New Orleans finally, and maybe they would all find answers there. Castiel smoothed his hand over his stomach, that strange heat inside him was completely gone. He let his eyes wander back to Port Royal and the island, wondering when he would be seeing Gabriel again. He was also still concerned as to Inias and Samandiel’s whereabouts. Were they safe? What had become of them? In the week they had been there, Castiel had failed to discover what fate had fallen to his two crewmen.

Castiel sighed and reached up for his hat only to discover it missing. He made a small disappointed noise when he realized he had not picked it up off the ground near the bastion and the canon. He had left it in Port Royal. Perhaps it was fitting.

He turned his blue eyes away from the port and out to sea, and wondered sadly what else would be lost next.

 

 

(to be continued)


	13. Chapter 13

 

 

The Cerberus made it a good quarter league before any of the other ships from Port Royal was able to even cast off much less give chase, and so she slipped into the rising dark on the horizon as the sun began to set at her back.

Until then, the crew had been mainly above deck and now seeing that no one was currently following, they began to haul the personal belongings they had with them below deck. They began to claim cabins and settle in while Dean manned the helm and held her steady on course. Garth headed into the galley and prepared the evening meal.

Shortly after dusk Tamara relieved Dean at the helm and he joined the rest of his crew in the galley to eat. When he walked in, his ears were greeted by a bawdy tune. Benny and Victor harmonizing while Garth and Jo tapped out rhythms with wooden spoons on the table.

The galley was more lavish than anything Dean had seen before. There were two hearths, one just for baking, and the galley was outfitted with ample stores of dried goods, cheeses, a whole barrel of apples, tins of spices, and bundles of herbs dried and hanging from the rafters. And there was beer and rum. Several big casks of both.

Dean joined his crew with a smile and Sam filled a tankard for him. “Everyone settled then?”

Benny grinned, “The berths are quite handsome. These East India Company men do well.”

“Though some chose to share their berth even so.” Jo let off a giggle and grinned at Benny and Christina. In reply Benny merely smirked but Christina went red at her cheeks and hid her smile.

“Oh ho, and when did this happen?” Sam gave Benny a light prod with his finger.

“I believe it was when the rest of you were busy jumping in and out of Gabriel’s bed.” Dean raised his brows and hid his smile behind a sip of his ale. He flicked his eyes to his brother to see if he made Sam blush, and Sam squirmed a bit in his seat not meeting Dean’s eyes.

“Yes well,” Jo put her feet up on the table, “Great skill resides in Gabriel’s fingers, and he leaves a body intensely satisfied.” She gave Sam a knowing wink before she took a drink of her own beer.

Castiel began to choke on what he was trying to swallow, his surprised eyes looking quickly between Jo and Sam.

Sam merely shrugged, shaking off his embarrassment. He traded a long look with Jo and they gave smiles to each other that held secret meaning.

Castiel set his tankard down. “Did all of you find your way into my brother’s bed?!”

Charlie let out a laugh, “Hardly. Victor is true to his wife back home….” She raised her glass to Victor who nodded back in a gentlemanly fashion; “Garth had his ladies in town….”

“Darn tootin’” Garth smiled. He was kneading dough to make bread.

“I had my ladies in town….” Charlie let off a small sigh. “Only Sam and Jo seemed to enjoy Gabriel’s…um, hospitality.”

Castiel fiddled with the handle of his mug, “Had any of you heard… what became of Samandriel and Inias?”

When no one offered an answer, the silence now caused Dean to lift his head and stop eating. “None know?” Dean’s brow pinched together.

Garth wiped his hands on his apron as he stepped away from the baking hearth. “I know.” He took in a deep breath; “They were taken from the Seraph after y’all were taken to the prison. They were held in a different place, and I heard word that they were executed in private in front of a military review.”

Jo sighed loudly, “Tis partly true. Gabriel said they were taken yes, to a different place but then he said they left.”

“They left? They escaped?” Castiel frowned.

“Castiel your brother was not clear with the details, but he made it sound as if both men were unharmed and alright. He said Inias and Samandriel had gone home.” Jo gave a small shrug. “Tamara can not believe Samandriel would have left the island without at least trying to bid us farewell though.”

Castiel nodded then and dropped his eyes to the liquid in his tankard. “Perhaps I was not seeing things then. Though why the Royal Navy would just let them go….”

Dean placed his hand gently on Castiel’s arm, “What did you see Cas?”

“When we were on the gallows I saw both of them, healthy and well, watching from the crowd with oddly impassable faces. I found it strange to say the least.” Castiel kept his eyes lowered.

“Their ghosts mayhaps?” Benny offered.

“Then why would Gabriel tell me they were safe?” Jo frowned. “Gabe knew well of us, of what we do. What we hunt and why we pirate.”

Silently Castiel began to go over some of the things Gabriel had said to him on the balcony that morning. About how he was not from Haven, how his memories were wrong. He seemed to feel somehow maybe Samandriel and Inias were tied up in that, and that maybe they were able to return where as Castiel still had more to do.

Dean pushed his bowl away and scratched at his stomach contentedly, “It’ll be a mystery to solve another day. Who is on night watch?”

“Aye, Jo and I have it, plus Charlie and Tamara.” Sam stood. His and Jo’s eyes tracked each other a moment as Sam bit back a smile.

“Everyone settled in?” Dean stood and moved to clean his bowl.

“All but you Cap’n, I believe.” Benny stood and extended his hand to Christina, who took it with a pretty smile.

Dean looked over his shoulder at Benny, “I hope you took the Bosun’s quarters.”

“Aye we did.” Benny grinned.

Dean nodded and put away his bowl. “And Cas, where are you and Sam?”

“Sam in first mate’s cabin, Jo in the Quartermaster’s and I took the Commander’s…” Castiel stood and began collecting the empty bowls, tankards and cups. “You did want the Captain’s cabin did you not?”

Dean thought for a moment. “Not sure. This is Crowley’s ship, those may be his quarters. I know not if I feel at ease making use of them.” Dean turned around, “Did any of you go in there yet?”

“No.”  
“Not yet.”  
“Nay”  
“Nope”  
“Nah.”  
“No…..”

Dean nodded, “Alright then. Victor and Castiel, with me. The rest of you, to your duties or your cabins. We need to have full sail tomorrow to make quick time to New Orleans.” Dean headed towards the door, “Victor, bring your iron blades.”

Victory nodded and followed Dean out.

 

Ten minutes later as the waning gibbous moon danced higher into the night sky, Dean, Castiel and Victor stood at the threshold of the Captain’s quarters. Unlike the Seraph, the map rooms and the Captain’s office were separate rooms across the hall from the First Mate and the Commander’s quarters. But like the Seraph, the Captain’s private rooms were entered through double doors.

They paused to peer through the etched glass windows on the doors, but none of the three men could see movement beyond. They entered carefully, opening both doors wide. Beyond the hallway extended with a room on either side, one door open, and the other shut with a lock on it.

The open door revealed a room for bathing and toilet, with a strange sculpted porcelain seat for a chamber pot. Over the bath was an odd contraption made of strange looking metal poles that came out of the wall. Not seeing anything immediately threatening, Dean signaled for them to press forward.

The hall opened up to the room that spread across the back width of the ship, the windows spacious and well kept. There were opulent cabinets, chests and wardrobes, a fine desk and chair, and a huge bed with canopy and curtains.

Dean relaxed a bit. Nothing here looked out of the ordinary and nothing held sigils or symbols on it. Dean opened one of the wardrobes to find it empty as Victor peered under the bed and Castiel pulled a book from a shelf.

“It’s Dante’s Inferno…..” Castiel’s brows shot up as he looked at the first inner page. “Crowley wrote, ‘best comedy yet!’” Castiel and Dean traded quizzical looks before Castiel replaced the book on the shelf.

Victor came to stand next to them, “It looks safe and fine Captain. All the same, it’s a bit moody in here with all the dark colours….”

“I was thinking the same….” Dean caught Castiel’s eye, “Looks like I’ll be needing a different bunk.”

Victor chuckled, “I’ll be letting you fight with Sam for the next largest cabin. I myself am off to bed. Good night gents.” And with that Victor left.

Alone now, Dean let one arm snake around Castiel’s middle, “I was not thinking I would take Sam’s cabin….” He let a leer slide over his face.

Castiel tutted, “You’ll not be taking mine. I called it fair and square.”

Dean leaned closer and nudged his nose against Castiel’s cheek, “Ah but how fair is that, as I was at the helm when all was decided?” Dean drew Castiel closer, “How big is your bed Cas?”

“Not as big as that what’s in here.” Castiel tried to remain stoic but he shivered when Dean’s breath went sweet against his ear. “And not as big as Sam’s, but tis ample enough…..”

“Enough for?” Dean smoothed his other hand up Castiel’s back as he let his mouth linger near Castiel’s ear.

Castiel rolled his eyes and his staunch posture relaxed against Dean, “…for a Captain to enjoy…. very well Dean.” Cas’ hands came up to grip hold of Dean’s jacket, as a tremor ran through his body at Dean’s touch. “Apparently I can deny you nothing.”

“Cas…” Dean groaned out as he pulled Cas tight in, squeezing with his arms, “I’ll not be alone, as you would share it with me.”

Castiel made a small breathy sound and curled against Dean, his body beginning to fill with the need to touch and be touched everywhere by Dean. “Yes. Can we go there quickly, now?”

Dean smiled and nodded, his lips rubbing over Castiel’s neck now, “Aye, I’d have it no other way.”

They pulled away from each other and made to turn, when a loud thump came from within the locked room they had not yet opened. Both men stilled and waited, and when a second smaller thump, followed by a third happened both Dean and Castiel looked at each other. Dean whispered for Cas to go get Charlie quickly. Cas did and Dean took up position in front of the locked door.

More sounds happened randomly, and Dean realized that someone or something was trying to open the door from the other side. When Charlie returned with Castiel, Dean had his sword drawn, and Castiel then did the same.

Charlie jiggled the lock once before she began to pick it open, and that sound alone caused whatever was behind the door to become quiet. Once the lock was picked, Charlie stepped back and drew her own sword. Dean leaned in, turned the knob and flung the door open wide.

Inside was a small cabin outfitted with a covered chamber pot, a small but well cushioned bunk, and a small desk. A lone porthole looked out over the night ocean. What was unique about this room though, was that it was covered in parchment papers riddled with words and ciphers, symbols and sigils. And crouching on top of a large metal chest under the porthole, was a young Asian man. He was dressed in ornate silks and he was clutching a stone tablet close to his heart. He peered at the three at the door with wide but keen dark eyes.

“Who are you?!” The young man demanded, “What is happening?!”

Dean lowered his sword and took a long look around at the papers, recognizing some of the scribbling but not understand the rest. Then he did a quick take on the chest; it was either silver or some bright metal like it, and it was oriental in design with squared off corners and a flat lid. Writing Dean had never seen was etched all over it, and its lock was covered in an ornate silk knot made of red cord. The cord wrapped around the chest fully and it ended in a plush tassel under the knot. Finally he met the young man’s eyes and Dean drew his shoulder square.

“I am Dean Winchester, now Captain of this vessel.” Dean leveled a serious stare at the young man. “My crew and I have….”

“Liberated….” Castiel offered.

Dean nodded, “….Liberated this ship from its former owner. We hold it now and it is ours to do as we see fit.”

The young man stepped off the chest carefully, Dean and Castiel both noting that this person had excellent control over the motion of their body. Each movement was purposeful and measured. Which meant that even though he wasn’t armed, he still may be formidable.

That realization of theirs seemed to show on their faces and the young man’s eyes glimmered briefly as he looked them over in return. “Crowley no longer controls this vessel?”

“He does not.” Dean frowned, “Now I asked you all gentleman like for your name…. must I ask the hard way?”

The young man drew to his full height, which was about as tall as Charlie. He held his body regally and with confidence. “Kevin. I am Kevin Tran.”

 

 

(to be continued)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (this entire story is not beta-ed and each chapter is only proof-read by me, so typos and stuff may occur, proceed at your own risk)

 

 

Castiel leaned back on part of the starboard side rail along the quarterdeck, his arms folded over his chest. The evening was balmy with a fair breeze and the stars were beginning to glimmer overhead. Dean was tying off the helm as the rest of the crew gathered on deck per Dean’s request. Their “stowaway”, Kevin Tran was standing with his hands clasped behind his back, head held high, his eyes locked on the mizzenmast as if he was awaiting execution. At first it had made Castiel tap down a smile, amused at Kevin's reaction to the Winchesters and the crew, but then he remembered that it hadn't been so long ago that he had been in Kevin's position ready to take on the pirates with the sheer force of his will.

Dean had hauled Kevin Tran out of his cabin, then had Castiel and Charlie heft the metal chest out as well. It was remarkably light considering it’s size and they had no trouble bringing up onto the quarterdeck. It hadn’t felt flimsy though, and Castiel had decided the thing was probably empty.

Once the crew had all made it up onto the small deck, Castiel could see Kevin’s nervousness increase, his jaw tightening and his shoulders going stiff.

Victor and Benny kept their faces guarded while Tamara and Christina openly looked on Kevin with curiosity. Garth looked delighted, as if Kevin were a lost member of their group who had finally rejoined them. Jo gave Kevin an appraising look and then evidently decided she didn’t like what she saw and kept a scowl aimed at the young man. Sam’s expression was much like Dean’s, cautious, yet somehow vaguely amused.

When Dean had finished securing the helm to keep the Cerberus on course, he tucked his thumbs into the edges of his belt and turned to his crew. “Would seem we have a stowaway.”

At that Kevin’s eyes shot to Dean and they were filled with indignation and ire.

“As we of the free and open seas tend to do, I would hear each and all crewmen on this matter.” Dean looked to Sam once before going around the circle, is eyes noting them all. “What say you? What should we do with this man?” Dean bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, “Consign him to hard labor? Walk the plank?”

“Keel haul him.” Sam’s words were firm but his eyes were dancing with mischief.

Kevin brought his eyes back to bear on the mizzenmast and said nothing.

Dean frowned a little at not getting more of a reaction from Kevin.

“I say we cut open his legs and let them dangle in a barrel of crabs. Let them have a nibble.” Charlie offered, her eyes just as playful as Sam’s. When Tamara gave her an odd look, Charlie just smiled and gave a little shrug.

Kevin paled a bit in reaction though.

Dean almost grinned. “Aye we could wound him well, let the wounds become a home for maggots and vermin….”

Small beads of sweat were dotting Kevin’s brow, but he held silent and remained still.

“We could stuff him in a basket and dangle him from the bowsprit.” Castiel said calmly. Possibly too calmly as the rest of the crew looked at him in barely veiled horror knowing he himself had endured such a torment. Castiel gave no reaction and stayed impassive.

It did make Kevin swallow hard and his breathing picked up.

“I say we just kill him outright and stop wasting time.” Jo growled. She drew her sword instantly and strode at Kevin, whipping the blade up and around as if to cleave off his head.

At that Kevin moved, though it was not the cowering duck that Castiel expected. Instead, Kevin extended one foot, lowered his body by bending his knees and shifted so that Jo’s blade sang through the air to his side as he turned his shoulders and dropped one arm. Jo stepped forward and Kevin continued to turn his body around, avoiding her. With another half turn he was behind her, his foot coming up to press against her lower back. He gave her a light shove to keep her moving forward. She caught herself and whirled around.

Instead of being angry she was laughing.

Dean was openly smiling now, “I knew it!” He waited until Kevin turned to look at him, then walked over to clap Kevin on the shoulder, a light laugh on his lips. “Saw a Japanese fellow fight once, with a really thin sword… moved like you when he walked….remember that guy Sam?” Dean glanced back at his brother still smiling and Sam nodded, grinning in return. “Oh man that guy could tromp you into the sunset and drink you into oblivion… wow…”

Confused, Kevin let his arms sag to his sides, “I don’t understand….”

Sam placed his long fingers to steeple along his hips, “Kevin, it was obvious you were Crowley’s prisoner… we were never going to hurt you.”

“Just having a bit of fun though…” Dean let his biggest smile out, “Thought you would have snapped at us sooner though…. You got great control kid!”

Kevin looked about as perplexed as a person could possibly get. “So… what are you going to do with me?”

“Depends on how useful you are.” Tamara lifted her chin, “You obviously know hand to hand… how are you with a gun?”

“I… I have never shot one.” Kevin’s eyes began darting from crewmember to crewmember. The women were walking around him slowly, sizing him up.

“How about a sword?” Jo twirled hers in her fingers.

“Rifle?” Christina asked.

“Cross bow?” Charlie raised a brow.

Kevin shook his head, “I have terrible aim with a cross bow but with a long bow I am quite proficient. And I can throw knives.”

“Where did you learn all this?” Sam met Kevin’s eyes and held them.

Kevin took a deep breath, and his face showed that he expected ridicule for his answer when it came. “My mother.”

Dean simply nodded and looked satisfied. “Jo’s mother taught her the sword, and to shoot. Taught Sam and myself a thing or two as well….”

“I wouldn’t be the pirate I am without what Mom taught me.” Jo grinned, “We’ll have to talk about knives…”

For the first time Kevin narrowed his eyes and frowned, “Pirates?”

“What did you think we were?” Castiel spoke up, his own curiosity pricked at by something he remembered Missouri telling him on the deck of the Seraph when they were on Tortuga.

“Thieves? Brigands? Buccaneers? Possibly privateers for the English Crown.” Kevin looked them over, “But hardly Pirates.”

Dean seemed to bristle at that. “Why not Pirates?”

Kevin laughed, “You’re too clean for a start. And look at you… not an arm or leg or eye missing on any of you!”

Dean leaned in towards Kevin, his eyes hard. “I’ll have you know you are among the infamous Winchester crew.”

Kevin paused, his smile fading. He took a long hard look at both Sam and Dean, then at Castiel and the rest. “No man standing here is John Winchester.”

“How…” Dean was becoming a little frustrated, “How would some teenager in silk sleeping dress know what my father John Winchester looked like?!”

Kevin kept his eyes on Sam for a long moment, and then he looked at Dean. “When John Winchester sailed under my mother’s banner, he did not have sons, nor did he speak of them.”

Dean’s patience was quickly fading, “… son of a bitch…. When John sailed with … with your mother?! When was this?!” Sam laid a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder, pulling him back a little.

“Eight years ago.” Kevin stated.

“Dean….” Sam leaned down near Dean’s ear, his voiced hushed, but not so much it could not be heard by the others. It seemed to be more of a calming tactic towards Dean. “Dad was in the Pacific for a time remember? We were with Bobby…”

Sam lifted his head and addressed Kevin, “You say John sailed with your mother?”

“Yes. For two full years he was under her command….. Linda Tran….” Kevin nodded, “Though you know her by the name of Zheng Shi or Ching Shih….”

Sam’s eyes went really wide and his face looked stunned, “Your mother is Ching Shih, the Terror of the South China Seas?!”

“Our father sailed with the Red Flag Fleet?!” Dean looked as incredulous as Sam.

Kevin shrugged a little. That John Winchester would want to sail with such an auspicious person seemed reasonable to Kevin and he said so. “Mother is the greatest pirate that has ever lived. Why wouldn’t John Winchester want to be part of her crew?” His tone was as if his mother being a legend was a simple fact of the natural world.

“That’s so cool,” Garth smiled and patted Kevin lightly on the shoulder, as if Kevin hadn’t just told them he was a Prince among pirates, “So um, what’s in the chest?”

“Garth!” Both Sam and Dean rang out together.

“What? I’m just curious. It’s really pretty and….” Garth saw the looks on the brother’s faces, gave a small shrug and withdrew.

Castiel stepped forward then, away from the rail to stand near Kevin and Dean, but he directed his words to Dean, “If I may Captain?” Cas gestured to Kevin.

Dean nodded and stepped back, he and Sam pulling away to discuss something between them away from the group. Castiel folded his arms once more, only this time he rested the elbow of one arm in the crook of the other so his hand could tap lightly against his chin and lips.

“It is a rare honor to make your acquaintance Kevin…. I am former Commander Castiel Novak of the Royal Navy…” He and Kevin traded nods and Castiel continued, “Your mother, as powerful as she is, would not have allowed you to just run off with the East India Company….”

“She despises them.” Kevin confirmed.

Castiel nodded, “So how is it that you are here aboard the Cerberus? Especially with your training and skills? I can not see Crowley removing you by force.”

Kevin eyed the chest briefly, let out a sigh and then looked at Castiel with his big dark eyes. The innocence there now was unmistakable. For all his bravado, he still held some of his inner youth. “Crowley came to try to broker a deal with my mother… wanting routes into the silk trade. He brought incredible gifts and inventions… he even tried to woo my mother romantically. As part of his time with us, he was quite friendly in regards to me.” Kevin sighed, “In hindsight I can see now he was just using us to try to get to her treasure.”

Castiel narrowed his gaze a bit, but it came across more as if he was deeply interested in hearing Kevin’s tale. “Go on…”

“Crowley was charming and intelligent. Well spoken and had delightful humor. He would give me rare books filled with stories from England and Italy. He taught me to speak some French and was generally kind to me. He interacted with me as my own person, not as Ching Shih’s son.” Kevin’s shoulders drooped, “And then at our evening meal one night he somehow managed to drug our food. I passed out only to awaken on this ship, in that cabin.”

“Your mother must be searching for you….” Castiel’s concern, genuine.

“Crowley told me he had poisoned her, meaning to kill her. He failed though. Word was brought that she was very sick for a long time but recovered.” Kevin’s eyes grew watery. “He sent word to her that if she came after him, he would kill me and cast my soul into Hell itself.”

“And in the chest?” Castiel gestured to the bright metal box bound in beautiful red silk cord.

Kevin’s eyes went wide, “The chest was stolen from my mother’s personal treasure horde. As was the stone tablet that I left back in my cabin. I believe Crowley’s intent all along was to lay his claim on both items.”

Castiel shook his head slightly, “But why those things?”

“The tablet holds ancient knowledge on demons.” Kevin hesitated, and then looked to Sam and Dean who had been listening to the conversation, now both silent and serious. “For some reason I’m the only one that can read it, and Crowley was forcing me to translate it.”

It was then than Kevin held up his left hand, up until now half hidden by the cuff of his sleeve, or covertly concealed behind his back. His pinky finger had been severed off. “I supposed this makes me an official pirate now, hhhm?” Kevin lowered his hand.

He turned to the chest and stepped close, running the remaining four fingers of that hand over the thick silk cords. “I don’t know what is in the chest. I have only heard rumors.”

Dean raised a brow, “What are the rumors?”

“That within this magically protected chest are the Peaches of Heaven.” Kevin almost smiled.

“Peaches? There’s fruit in there?” Dean looked from Kevin to the box, “Garth makes a great pie…”

Sam sighed, “Dean…. The Peaches of Heaven grant near immortality and invincibility to any mortal that eats one.” Sam looked down at the chest. “Chinese lore is full of stories about them.”

“Then we can have The Pie of Immortality….” Dean flexed his fingers and tugged on the silk cords. His eyes had grown bright with delight and he licked his lips.

Kevin merely chuckled. “Well, good luck getting the chest open to get to them.”

“What do you mean?” Dean looked up, frowning again.

“Crowley tried everything he could to open it. The cords won’t be cut by any blade or edge. The metal cannot be dented or pried. He tried explosives, flame, tried freezing it. He tried running over it with a carriage. As you can see, there is not a dent on it.” Kevin stepped back, “He even went as far as to offer one to the King of England if someone in the King’s employ could release it’s locked lid.”

“So this is why the Seraph was sent to accompany the Cerberus to London.” Castiel flicked the edges of his coat back so he could slip his hands into the pockets of his pants.

Sam crouched down before the chest and gingerly ran his hands over the intricate knot that rested over the lock on the chest. He leaned in, peering closely, and then his brows shot up a bit. “Dean, come look at this….” Sam scooted out of the way a bit as Dean got down on his knees beside his brother.

Castiel leaned a little over both of them, trying to see what they were looking at.

“The writing is kanji…. Or katakana… I’m not sure. Bobby would know. But look Dean, the configuration of the etchings….” Sam was carefully lifting the edges of the knot to look at the inscriptions on the lock itself.

“It looks like a modified transmutation circle….” Dean angled his head a little trying to see more, “Or a really fancy devil’s trap gone crazy.”

“Maybe we should bring this to Booby?” Sam’s breath was starting to pick up with excitement.

“Won’t Missouri know about such things?” Castiel asked. He was nearly leaning on the brother’s shoulders now, his face dour, his eyes squinting to see the writing.

The three of them heard a deep chuckle coming from behind them and they turned to see Benny beginning to remove the ropes from the helm. He grinning and winked at them, his eyes shining.

“Real good thing we’re heading to N’Awlins then eh?” Benny drawled, “With all the good luck we’ve been havin’, I’d say we got an angel watching over us, right boys?”

Castiel felt a tremor move through his insides, deep down. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt an itch of an idea and he almost said aloud, ‘You have no idea….’ And it made Castiel startle.

He was suddenly very apprehensive of reaching New Orleans and what their journey may unlock in his broken memories.

 

 

(to be continued)


	15. Chapter 15

The Ships  


**The Red Reaper**  
**The Seraph**  
**The Cerberus**  
&  
**The Impala**

 

 

Castiel tilted his face up, drinking in the sunshine and the breeze on his face. It ruffled his hair and the light cotton clothing on his body. Around him, flower petals and blossoms danced on the air and filled it with their fragrance. A deep sense of contentment and peace wove through his being and his own body felt languid.

“It’s very lovely here Castiel.” The woman’s voice was kind, but still had the hint of a question to her tone.

Castiel turned. His feet were bare and sunk cozy into the thick green grass of a lawn. He was met with Missouri’s deep wide brown eyes and her big smile. Unlike her visit to him on the Seraph, she was now wearing a flowing gauzy white dress, simple and elegant in its style. She was barefoot as well and her hands were clasped loosely in front of her. On her head she wore a circlet of gold, a bright silver star set over her forehead.

“I’m dreaming.” Castiel smiled easy, graciously.

“You are.” Missouri stepped closer. “I hope you don’t mind me visiting you here?”

Castiel let out a little laugh, “It’s a dream. How can one mind something that isn’t real?”

“Castiel, Child of Divine Light, you are dreaming yes, but I am really here, touching into your unconscious mind.” Her smile faded, and her face took on a look of caring concern, “It’s very important we speak, and I needed to do so before you reach New Orleans.”

Castiel took in a deep breath. He kept smiling and shook his head as if this was all silly. “As you like.”

“I don’t think you understand me Castiel.” Her tone grew more severe now, her face became serious and her eyes seemed to darken more. “Forgive me but I must prove myself to you….” She stepped closer to Castiel and lifted one hand. She drew her fingernail down his arm, and where it touched it raked. She split a cut on his skin, blood and pain blooming as if it was real and he was awake.

Castiel jerked back, his other hand covering the wound as he frowned and glared at her. “That hurt!”

Missouri planted her hands on her hips. “Now will you listen seriously? We don’t have time for this little angel. There is much to be explained to you!”

Castiel clamped his hand over the cut and he shook his head. He mocked, “Then speak and let me wake from this nightmare.”

Missouri sighed, annoyed at his tone of voice. She cast her eyes up to the sky, “I am patient child but I am running out of time, even for one such as me.”

Castiel sat down into the soft grass, his hand returning to press to the cut. The pain still stung, but not as badly as before. “What do you mean, one such as you? You’re a priestess, a witch.”

A light sweet laugh came from Missouri’s mouth and she sat in front of Castiel, her palms turned skyward as they rested on her legs. “I am not those things.” She leaned in and touched Castiel on the knee ever so gently and when she pulled her hand back all his pain was gone. “I go by many names…. Yemanja. Iemanya. La Sirène. Even Mami Wata….”

Castiel stilled. “Those are names of goddesses…”

“I am one of the Orixás…. A spirit of water. It is said that in the beginning all life came from me, including all of the orishas…..” Missouri smiled warm, gentle, lovingly. “Though it matters not if only part of that is true now….”

She reached over now and rested a hand lightly against Castiel’s, “What matters now is that you listen to me. First, you must not waste time coming to New Orleans.”

“But why? Dean and Sam need to speak with you…. to find the Impala and the thing that will kill Azazel….” Castiel’s brows pinched up in the center and he nearly pouted.

“Because I am not there child. Azazel came to my home and burnt it down. He thinks it destroyed me, thinks my secrets and my skills and my knowledge are now taken from you. This is not so….” She chuckled a little, “Fool of a demon, I am older than he and older than even you Castiel. That a little flame might part me from my life’s spark is ludicrous.”

Missouri spread her hands out on the grass now and the blades shimmered, then they went liquid and a small pool formed before her. It flickered and shifted, showing Castiel the ocean as if he were looking through a spyglass. “You are closer to the Impala than you realize, and when you wake fate will conspire to place you where you need to be to find it.” She passed her hand over the pool and a small island came into view. From the north, its waters were azure and bright. But from the south the waters grew dark, deep and sinister.

She pointed to the dark water and then looked Castiel square in the eye. “It is here that your test will come Child of Light. It is here you must unlock your hidden self or else that which is most precious to you will be lost.”

When Castiel opened his mouth to unleash his confusion and his questions Missouri held up her hand to silence him before she continued, “Within the Impala is a weapon. A musket. It is blessed and changed by spell work. Azazel does not believe it exists, but it does. It can kill him…. Not just send him back to his hell. It can wipe him from existence. The brothers will know what it is when they lay their eyes upon it.”

She drew her hand over the pool once more and the stone tablet from Kevin’s room came into view. “Azazel’s quest is to unlock a Hell Gate and bring more of his kind into this world. This tablet will tell you how to locate the gate. You must find it before Azazel can succeed. You must make sure it stays sealed.”

The pool began to slosh and grow, getting bigger and wider. The view within it grew dark, turbulent. Missouri simply stood up and began to back away from the edge of the rising water with dainty steps.

“But wait… what about the locked chest? And what of Samandriel and Inias?” Castiel got to his feet as well, still clutching his hand over the cut.

“Inias and Samandriel have been recalled to Heaven. Their duties here were done.” Missouri said as she stepped further away.

“Does that mean they are dead?! Please….” Castiel took a step towards her, letting go of his arm to reach out to her with blood-smeared fingers. The water from the pool lapped at his feet now and climbed higher, licking at his ankles.

“Stop being foolish child!” Missouri said firmly.

“I don’t understand!” He called out to her. The water was swiftly rising to his knees and past. He could feel the chill of ocean waters soaking through his clothing.

“Castiel!” She speared him with a dire look, “WAKE UP!”

 

 

 

Castiel gasped and struggled. A heavy weight was pressing down his side and his legs were bunched up in some large fabric and he couldn’t move his arms and then he tried to breathe and his breath seized in his chest and….

“Whoa! Easy there Cas…” Dean’s voice came soft, reassuring, tender at Castiel’s side. Dean’s arms that were wrapped about Castiel went slack and he pulled their covers away to give Castiel some room. “Don’t panic…. I got a little clingy…” Dean sounded a tad sheepish.

Castiel took in a deep breath and then brought his arms around Dean to tug the other man back in close, “T’was a dream, not you, that sent me flailing.” He pressed his lips to Dean’s temple and closed his eyes. Cas could feel the rocking sway of the ship on the waves and let it relax him.

“Some dream…. I can’t recall seeing you break your calm like this before.” Dean’s tone was teasing as he nosed against Castiel’s jaw, “No wait…. I take that back… the last night we were at Gabriel’s manor…. When I had you bent over the end of the bed. You were not the composed Commander then…”

“If my demeanor was disturbed t’was your fault Captain…. You and your agile fingers….” Castiel mumbled, his mouth still against Dean’s head.

“Aye and I take great glee in it.” Dean pulled back a little and his mood shifted from playful to concerned, “Tell me of your dream Cas?”

“Missouri came to me in it. She said we should not bother sailing to New Orleans, that she was not there.” Castiel sighed and lifted his chin a bit. He looked at Dean with half closed eyes, “She said we are closer to the Impala than we think and that on board is a weapon, a musket, that will slay Azazel.”

“I knew it!” Dean smiled, “I knew Dad had found it. There are entries in his journal about this musket. Dad must have hidden it on the Impala.” Dean paused and his smile faded, “But if Missouri came to you in your dream….”

“She said she was unharmed….. that there were more important issues to concern ourselves on.” Castiel reached up and stroked his fingers through Dean’s sun kissed hair. “But think Dean, where would your father have hidden the Impala? How many places can one hide a whole ship?” Castiel looked up at the ceiling of their cabin trying to puzzle it out. “A cove someplace? A cave? Though the tide might be an issue…”

It was like a light came on in Castiel’s mind as the idea hit him. The water rising in his dream, the island Missouri had shown him… “Of course! I would bet the Impala is run aground on low tide, but when high tide comes she could float free….perhaps John doesn’t have her hidden on water but on low land….”

Castiel sat up a bit onto his elbows, “Dean, you know these waters well yes?”

“Aye….” Dean raised one brow.

“If I drew you a sketch of an island, would you know which island it was? Would you be able to find it?” Castiel let a slow smile grow over his face. “I believe she showed me in my dream where the Impala is kept.”

“Aye, I can do it…. But we still have hours before daylight and we can plot a course then….” Dean wriggled closer, covering Castiel with his body. “For now I mean to swim in other waters…”

“And what waters would that be Captain?” One corner of Castiel’s mouth hitched up higher. He could feel the drag of Dean’s half hard cock against his thigh as Dean shifted. A wave sloshed over the porthole widows briefly and the patter of rain began to tap on the glass after the wave receded.

“Would that I sail my hands over your fair skin Cas, drink from the ocean of thy eyes and ride the swelling wave that crests between thy thighs…..” Dean grinned and then began to nip and nuzzle at Castiel’s throat.

“Dean that was such tawdry verse… did you read that in Gabriel’s library?” Castiel meant to chuckle, but as Dean latched his mouth to Castiel’s skin it forced the sound out as a groan.

“Made it up m’self….. just now….” Dean mouthed against Castiel’s skin, wrapped his arm’s around Cas’ torso and pulled them together tight. He rocked his hips against Castiel’s and Cas let out another groan.

“Dean…. Yer not a pirate.” Castiel let his head fall back as his hips rolled against Dean’s, “Yer a damn siren come to tempt me to my death….” Cas’ body thrummed with desire, and he marveled at how Dean’s touch could set him off like a powder keg. Already his body was hot, his sex engorged and throbbing.

“Drag ya into certain debauchery I will…..” Dean glanced up at Castiel with complete unabashed mischief in his green eyes and a moment later he was slinking down Castiel’s body, fingers rough on Castiel’s chest. Dean’s mouth made for Castiel’s nipple and covered it, then began to lick. He worried it into a red nub while Castiel gasped and squirmed.

The ship rolled under them again, harder this time, and it rocked their bodies together in a way that had them both gasping out in pleasure. Then the ship lurched and swayed the other direction and one the powder sacks for Dean’s muskets slid off a nearby shelf and hit the floor with a thump. When it was followed by a flicker of lightning, both men looked up to the porthole windows.

Dean let out a low frustrated sound and he ground his cock against Castiel’s one more time before beginning to pull away. Castiel closed his eyes and took in a deep calming breath before he began to sit up.

“Seems Mother Nature doesn’t want us to follow our natures….” Dean grumbled. He dragged himself off Castiel and half rolled, half tumbled off the bed as the ship lurched again. He reached for his outer breeches as his erection strained heavy against his under clothes. “Th’ timing of this storm is highly unwelcome!”

Castiel’s physical state was the same as Dean’s as he slipped from the bed and began to dress, albeit a bit quicker. “They never are….”

Soon both men were dressed and making their way out of their cabin. The ship was heaving up and down in slow stomach dipping motions now, and Castiel guessed the swells were growing larger by the moment. They had to brace themselves against the walls of the hallway in order to make their way to the stairs leading up to the deck.

When Dean opened the door to go out, they were sprayed hard with lashing wind and water. The deck was soaked and waves curled up and over the ship’s sides as if she were a child’s toy in a tub.

“DEAN!” Sam’s yell came from to their left. He was anchoring one of the main tacks for the sails with his body, trying to keep it from whipping around in the wind. Dean partly ran, partly slid across the deck to grab the rope and assist.

The rest of the sails were secure, and this last one was being prepared to weather the storm by the rest of the crew. Once the sails were dealt with, the crew worked over the deck; methodical, practiced, making sure everything was tamped down or brought below deck. Tamara was still at the helm, pulling it and spinning it with all her strength to compensate for the churning waves as the ship was lifted and rammed by their force.

Castiel made his way over to the gun deck, quickly checking the canons to make sure they were all tied down secure. A crack of lightning slashed through the air near the ship and its subsequent peal of thunder brought Castiel’s eyes up to the storm around them.

It was getting worse.

Castiel hastened up to the helm and he had to shout for Tamara to hear him, “Let me take over… you’ve been at this all night…”

And she had been at the helm for hours. She gratefully gave over control and then made her way down to the main deck to assist with other duties.

Castiel surveyed the ship, the waves and the storm quickly. He noted that the wind was coming primarily from the port side but the brunt of the waves push was coming from their stern starboard corner. It caught the ship in the middle between the two and Castiel now understood that Tamara had been trying to keep the ship from spinning in a circle. With the sails fixed, all he need do now was ride the waves and keep them behind the ship and pushing them forward. They could weather the frontal assault by the rain. He pointed the prow into the wind and let the waves bump and shove the stern, much like Castiel had seen dolphins do to ride bigger waves.

Castiel saw Dean holler to him more than he heard it, and Castiel signaled that all was well at the helm. Dean grinned and nodded, then he and Sam went below deck. Castiel surmised they would be checking the hull’s integrity for leaks or cracks.

Charlie joined Castiel and her usually free hanging hair was now bound off her face by a rain soaked scarf. She gave him a brilliant smile of encouragement, but Castiel could still see the edge of worry in her eyes. She squinted into the storm on their port side and the smile washed away.

“Did you see that?” Charlie shouted, her voice nearly muted by the roar of the storm. She pointed out into the wind, blinking against the rain.

Castiel held fast to the helm and squinted into the storm as well, “Nay…..I did no….”

A flash of lightning seared the sky and lit everything up in stark whites and greys. It cut Cas off and the instant retort of thunder nearly took his breath from his chest.

But what chilled him and brought him silent was not the lightning or the thunder, but what Charlie was pointing to now, causing her face to go ashen in disbelief.

In that hot moment of light, the waters around the ship were illuminated to an ample depth. Around them the sea went crystalline, which made the outline of what writhed under the surface ahead and to the port side of the ship all the clearer.

Giant twisting meaty tentacles of shadow wormed under the water and the ship was heading directly for them.

Castiel grappled the helm wheel hard and pulled it with his whole body. The ship heaved and groaned as the tiller cut through the water. The Cerberus careened hard to starboard as one of those enormous appendages snaked up to breach the surface.

Charlie was slipping as the ship tilted, but she managed to skate her way to the alarm bell behind Castiel. The crew had secured the bell with a thick canvas bag earlier and Charlie began to fight with it to pull it off. She had to ring the bell to warn the rest of the crew.

But it was too late.

The tentacle whipped up and curled down, tangling itself around the yardarm of the mizzenmast. It was as if they had suddenly dropped anchor. Castiel braced himself as the ship slammed sideways, ramming the lower end of the tentacle and whatever beast was wielding it. Faster than the lightning flashing above, more of the long thick squid like arms darted up out of the water to find places to take hold all over the ship.

The alarm bell was ringing now, Charlie yanking on its rope frantically. Its clang was half muffled by the wind howling around the ship.

Castiel grimaced and held fast to the helm. On the main deck he could see Garth, Benny, Jo and Tamara drawing their swords to hack away at the sinuous tentacles. They brought their blades down but their edges just glanced harmlessly off the beast’s tough hide. When Charlie saw her crewmates attack the arms, she leapt down to the main deck to join in.

Dean and Sam came out from below deck, both of their faces in shock at the scene before them. Christina and Victor shouldered past the brothers with long poles that had iron hooks on the ends. They leveraged them to try to pry one of the tentacles free from its grip on one of the masts but they could barely affect it, the thing’s hold was so tight.

Sam ran to Jo’s side, drawing his sword to join her at hacking over and over at one of the smaller tentacles. It was as thick as Sam’s waist and made of pure muscle and their blades barely made a mark.

Dean came to Benny’s left, pulling out a smaller dagger and aiming to jab at the round suckers lining the undersides of its arms. The dagger bit into the flesh there, drawing out a foul smelling black ichor. It also made the appendage twist in pain.

The beast retaliated and it squeezed. Long ropey contractions of sinew tightened its hold on the ship and the wood groaned in protest. The thing squeezed again and the sound of wood snapping bounced over the ship.

Castiel began to hurriedly tie down the helm, wrapping the wet rope in quick practiced loops. Just as he finished, he felt the Cerberus wobble and he looked up.

The ship began to rise from the water, the monster’s tentacles lifting it away even as huge waves continued to slam against the ship’s hull. Castiel sucked in a breath as the ship canted sideways, turning in the creatures grip.

For one awful moment Castiel feared they were going to be pulled under and gulped down into the beast’s mouth as more of its bulbous body came into view. But then he saw other darker shapes in the water looming through the storm just beyond their starboard side.

Jagged black rocks jutted up, stabbing through the thrashing waves, and cutting against the storm.

“IT MEANS TO DASH US ON THE ROCKS!!” Castiel warned but his words were torn away from him by the wind.

The sea monster hoisted the ship over, plowing it into the solid crags. The ship’s hull cracked louder than any other slap of thunder as it hit, the impact of it throwing everyone on deck off his or her feet. Every crewmember had to scramble to grab hold of something or be tossed into the raging sea.

Castiel’s arm snapped out to grab hold of one of the ropes he had used to secure the helm, but his fingers were too slick with water and sweat. His fingers slithered over the rope and wood without catching. He felt himself slide backwards across the surface of the quarterdeck. He rolled his body and drew his sword, and just as he came to the edge of the deck he managed to drive the blade in to wedge between two boards and stop his decent. He jerked to a halt and frantically wrapped both hands to the sword’s hilt to hang on.

The ship was listing sideways now, the decks nearly at a sixty-degree angle to the crashing waves around them. Benny had caught his arm around a rope and blood was oozing from where it had stripped his skin. His other hand held Tamara’s arm fast and kept her from falling into the water. Sam was braced with his arms and legs against two large crates that were strapped to the deck, while Jo clung to the ropes that held those same crates. Garth and Victor had managed to hold to the rigging, and Charlie had weaved her arms around the rails to the steps along the gun deck. Christina was hanging fast to one of the secured canons, one foot propped against its mountings.

“Dean!!” Castiel called, not seeing Dean anywhere. He twisted his head over his shoulder, hoping to see Dean on the foredeck somewhere when he remembered Dean had been by Benny’s side. Castiel looked to Benny again and then to Tamara and then lower….

Dean had his feet planted against the rail of the port side, his butt against the deck itself while one arm was wrapped around another rope from the rigging much like Benny. Dean had his dagger in his teeth and his other hand was braced against one of the thick squamous tentacles gripping the ship. Waves were sweeping against Dean and he clung hard, fighting not to be washed away.

“DEAN!” It came from Sam, who was now trying to visually find a way to climb down to his brother to save him. Panic was rising fast in Sam’s eyes.

It had already seized hold in Castiel’s chest. Castiel flicked his eyes around, looking for another handhold to help him climb down to the main deck. When a loose main tack line from the mizzenmast flew past near Castiel’s hands, he made up his mind to grab hold when it came around again. It flailed out and then snapped back closer. Just a bit more and Castiel knew he could grab it and……

There was another louder sickening crack of wood as the monster pressed the ship firmly into the teeth of rocks. The jolt was so hard that it shook Garth and Victor loose from their hold on the rigging and they nearly fell.

Castiel was not so lucky. He had been trying to get hold of the loose rope with one hand and that left only his left hand gripping his sword hilt. The force of the ship being impaled on the rocks broke Castiel’s grasp and he felt his body sluice against the deck in a rapid fall.

Then for one thrilling moment Castiel was flying. The wind and the rain felt as if they were buoying him up, sending him skyward. He held his breath still and his eyes open. The storm clouds above him were beautiful. They were roiling blues, purples and ashen greens flickering with lightning. He tried to reach up into it, soar towards it, but nothing happened.

That weightlessness vanished and his body was pulled downwards, plummeting with speed for the sea. Castiel hit the storm-churned waves with enough force that it violently knocked the air from him.

Water enveloped him and then everything went dark.

 

 

(to be continued)


	16. Chapter 16

  


**_Tamara and Jo_ **

 

 

 

 

Sticky.

And salty.

Castiel tried to open his eyes and only managed to pull one lid open, the other stuck closed and gummy. He was coated in a layer of drying seawater, salt and sand and the grit was clogging his eyelids and his lips. He sat up slowly and went to rub his eyes clean when he felt all the wet sand clinging to his hands. With an annoyed sigh he wiped his hands as best as he could on his still damp coat, then brushed his fingers over his face dislodging the gunk from his eyes. Finally unhindered, he opened both eyes and took a look around.

It was dark, but the pink sliver of dawn was tinting the sky to his left and the sand around him seemed to nearly glow silver in the blooming light. He was seated, feet squishing in waterlogged boots, facing a receding tide. To his left, more shoreline stretching away and to his right was a cliff looming up fifty feet and capped in bushes and palms. Behind him, the jungle encroached, thick and emerald dark.

Castiel wrestled off his leather boots, then stood and peeled away his damp coat. He unbuttoned his waistcoat and then slipped that off since it was still wet as well. Then he stripped off his shirt and used it to wipe his face clean. He bent over, raked his fingers through his hair dislodging sand, bits of seaweed and a small crab. For a brief second he considered snatching up the tiny crab and eating it, but then decided to let the poor little thing go. As he stood up, a glint of metal near his foot caught his eye. Castiel paused, then dug into the sand and pulled the object free.

It was a large old key, weathered and bitten by the ocean but still in tact and serviceable. It was coated in barnacles along one side and had illegible writing carved on it. Castiel tucked it into his coat pocket. He slung his coat, waistcoat and shirt over his shoulder, picked up his boots and then began to hike down along the shoreline towards the brightening sky.

He felt dazed and disoriented, lightheaded.

He had only walked a short while when he saw the flicker of a fire up ahead on the beach. He couldn’t bear to hope that the Winchesters and their crew had survived their ordeal in the storm and the attack of that… thing.

He continued towards fire. There were no cannibals in this part of the Caribbean, and if it were other pirates or merchants perhaps he could barter his boots for passage and work aboard their ship. If the fire was from members the Royal Navy, well then, perhaps he had cheated Death already enough.

He was still several yards away when he heard his named called by a happy female voice, and soon he saw Jo and Charlie jogging down the beach to him. Charlie pulled to a stop as she came close, but Jo full on barreled into him, catching him into a big hug and squeezing him in delight.

“Castiel! We thought we’d lost you too!” Jo said with honest relief in her voice. She let go of him and Castiel could see the genuine expression of happiness at seeing him alive in both women’s eyes.

Charlie thumbed back towards the campfire, “Benny saw you coming down the beach in his spyglass.”

“What do you mean… lost me too?” Castiel face was full of concern now as he walked with both women to the campfire. Neither answered and let him see for himself.

The crew had made it to the island using two small rowboats from the Cerberus, and those were now beached not far away. It looked as if they had managed to bring with them as much supplies as they could hold from the ship. That was the good news.

The bad news Castiel could see by looking around the campfire. Benny’s arm was in a sling, broken and bandaged as best as possible. Garth had a deep wound in his side, and it had leaked blood through the bandages. The rest had cuts and scrapes, gashes and bruises. Kevin was among them, his clothing torn, one hand wrapped in the hem of his robe and clutched to his chest.

“Where are Sam and Dean?” Castiel felt his initial concern flaring into a flutter of panic.

“Sam is just down the beach there…” Charlie pointed the other direction, into the rising sun. “We saw more debris on the beach down there through the spyglass and he went to look… to see if it were you or Dean…. He wouldn’t wait for sun-up.”

Castiel dropped the clothing he was carrying and his boots. He extended his hand to Benny and Benny gave his the spyglass. Castiel’s eyes the whole time were affixed to the direction Sam had gone. “Tell me what happened after I fell off the ship?” He began to bring the spyglass up to look through.

“Well Dean jumped in after you of course.” Benny chuckled.

Shocked, Castiel quickly looked at the other crew: he was met by them rolling their eyes, good-natured smiles and looks of ‘what else would Dean have done?’.

Benny continued, “After the waves swallowed you both, that thing, that monster, withdrew. Let go of the ship and then just sunk into the sea. We feared it had eaten you and Dean.”

“Soon after, the storm let up. We were able to launch the rowboats and load them with supplies. Sam guided us to this island.” Kevin hugged his other arm to his chest.

Castiel hesitated a moment, then brought the spyglass up fully and looked down the beach, searching for Sam. He could see Sam making his way back, some large bundle in his arms. Cas passed the spyglass back to Benny quickly, then bolted, running bare chested and bare foot down the beach to Sam.

Castiel both hoped and dreaded that Sam was carrying Dean’s limp body. Hoped that Sam had found his brother and maybe he was just unconscious and waterlogged as Castiel had been. Dread that Dean was….

There was a loud crash to Castiel’s left and he pulled up short, his feet digging into the sand. The sound had come from within the jungle, still dark and ominous, as the growing daylight had not penetrated it yet. The brush and plant life thrashed a bit and then a man was stumbling through it, sword hanging weakly at his side.

Like Castiel he was without shirt or boots, just in his breeches. But he seemed to have a shiny reddish scarf around his neck, falling down the front of his chest. He staggered further out from the jungle onto the beach and light caught the man’s body now. It was no scarf, but a thick red swath of blood painted around his throat, over his shoulder and down his chest. The man stumbled a few more steps and then looked up at Castiel.

“DEAN!” Castiel felt his breath stop.

A heartbeat later he was at Dean’s side, arms coming around the man’s sweat soaked and blood bathed body to help hold Dean up.

Sam had dropped whatever it was that he had been carrying to rush down the beach to his brother and Castiel. They helped ease Dean down the beach towards the fire.

“No no no….” Dean pushed against them, fighting to stand on his own two feet, “Not me, I’m not hurt….” He turned, pointing relentlessly back towards the jungle.

Sam followed his brother’s gesture while Castiel ran a hand over Dean’s skin. It was unbroken. Whomever this blood belonged to, it was not Dean’s. But Dean’s sword was clean. Castiel met Sam’s eyes, both confused.

“Got back and get it, ‘fore somethin’ else eats it….” Dean weakly stabbed his sword back towards the jungle.

“Dean, what are you talking about?” Sam looked his brother over. Dean looked exhausted.

“The boar!” His voice was annoyed in spite of how tired he was, “Killed a boar. Need to eat don’t we? Wha’ kinda Cap’n would I be if I didn’t feed my crew?”

Sam nodded, hollered for Victor and the two men went back into the jungle from where Dean had come out. Castiel helped Dean back over to the campfire and then laid him down on top of Castiel’s clothing.

Dean sat up on one elbow and looked over his crew, assessing their injuries, their faces, and their moods. The flood of relief and adoration at his return was tangible.

“What are y’all sittin’ around for? We need a spit built to cook that boar, need shelter made…..” Dean barked but there was no ire in his voice, only affection. “I expect reports from each of you… need status on supplies, how’re these rowboats… are they suited for longer travel…..” Dean kept giving out orders even as Castiel sat behind Dean and pulled Dean down to rest against him. Castiel cradled Dean’s head and stroked his fingers through Dean’s hair. Unashamed that the rest of the crew could see.

Dean glanced up at Castiel, a fake glower on his face, “Lazy Commander, just because you survived a storm an’ a ship wreck an’ a sea monster…. Think you can just sit about an’ pamper me….” But Dean’s eyes clearly showed how grateful and elated he was to see Castiel alive. He muttered on then about blue eyes and gentle fingers.

Castiel said nothing and within moments Dean was fast asleep.

 

 

 

  


**_Benny, Garth and Victor_ **

 

 

 

Dean woke rocking gently in a net hammock. It was later afternoon and he could smell pork roasting and it made his stomach chatter out its hunger noisily. He sat up to find himself in clean breeches and the blood from the boar he had killed washed from his body. He tipped out of the hammock easily to stand on the rough-hewn wood floor of an opened sided platform. It was built into the sturdy branches of a tree, and it had a thatch roof of palm fronds over his head. There were other empty hammocks hung around from support poles and branches. The structure did not look new, only newly repaired.

Dean came to the edge of the platform and looked out.

His crew had found a smuggler’s camp on the island and taken if for their new base. Several platform structures were built into the trees, the highest being only about fifteen feet from the ground. There was a fire pit of piled lava rock in the center and currently strips of boar meat were roasting over the open flames. His crew was moving about, bringing in large terracotta jars of water, sorting through the smuggler’s caches, some were tending to their weapons. Their bandages were a bit thin, but they sufficed.

On seeing Dean awake, Sam strode over with a smile. “How do you feel?”

Dean leapt the five feet from the platform down to the ground. “Pretty good for a shipwreck victim.” Dean gestured around them to the camp, “Smuggler’s camp?”

“Rum runners. But it doesn’t look like they’ve been here in a year. Their water jars were full of cobwebs.” Sam clasped Dean on the shoulder and walked him to the other side of the camp. They ducked through some bushes and down a small path to come to the top lip of the island’s southern facing cliff.

Castiel was already there, spyglass in hand, studying the surrounding waters.

Dean took a moment to just look with his own eyes and study where they had landed.

The island they were on was sort of long and thin, each point going east and west and ending in the land rising up much higher than the low center. The tips formed into high pointed grey black haggard rock. The beach that stretched below them to their left, to the east, was the one they had landed on. The water was shallow close to the beach, but then the land below the sea fell off abruptly and the waters quickly became very deep and very dark.

“There is a hot spring not far from the camp, water is a little mineral tinged but its safe enough to drink. We found fruit trees and wild yams growing…. So we’ll be fine on rations for a while.” Sam updated Dean, and went on to explain and list everything they were able to salvage from the ship… including the strange silver box that had been in Kevin’s quarters.

Dean listened to Sam, and paid attention, but his eyes kept stealing over to Castiel.

Cas had one booted foot propped up on a rock as he surveyed the sea with the spyglass. His posture made the breeches he had on tuck tightly against the firm curve of his backside and the muscle of his thighs. Castiel’s loose shirt fluttered in the breeze and it offered peeks of his neck and shoulder. And while this all had caught Dean’s gaze first, what kept pulling Dean back was the somber seriousness with which Castiel assessed everything he was looking at through the spyglass.

“We’re close to the wreck as well….” Sam stated.

“Truly?” Dean perked up. He wondered if the Cerberus was salvageable.

Sam pointed out into the deeper water just past the end of the eastern point of the island. There cradled like a baby in its mother’s arms, sat the Cerberus. It had been wedged into the protruding rocks, as a diamond would be in a ring setting. Dean could see that at high tide you could access the ship easily, but at low tide she would be fully out of the water.

“It’s like a natural dry dock….” Dean narrowed his eyes, thinking that perhaps going out in one of the rowboats to sort out the Cerberus’ damages was in order. There was ample wood on the island; with hard work she might be sea worthy in a few months, possibly. “We could construct winches on joists, anchor them on the peaks of those rocks and lift her off them…”

Dean was pointing out to the ship and the rocks to show Sam when Castiel unceremoniously placed the spyglass into Dean’s hand and made Dean’s fingers curl around it. Then he placed his hands firmly on Dean’s shoulders and turned the broad muscled pirate to the South in the direction Castiel had been viewing.

Castiel said nothing. He simply nodded grimly and waited for Dean to look.

Dean lifted the spyglass and peered through. He was pointed at the darkest deepest part of the water just beyond the rocks and the island. Here heavy clouds cloaked the sky, and they blotted out the sun, killed any glare on the surface. It made it easy to see below the surface in the unsullied water.

“It is an underwater trench.” Castiel began. “It was marked on our charts on the Seraph and its depths are unknown. It’s called the ‘Skull’s Maw.”

“So? Deep water does not concern me when I have a good vessel to sail….” Dean began to lower the spyglass.

“Keep looking.” Castiel’s voice was quiet but there was an unhappy tone to it.

Dean looked again. He scanned the dark water slowly and then stopped. He lowered the spyglass slowly and his face was pale. With trembling fingers he passed the spyglass to Sam. Sam took it quickly and looked as well.

Breaking water over the deep trench were tentacles, much like the creature that had attacked the Cerberus. They were thick, long, monstrous and writhing. And there were hundreds of them, squirming and then dipping down below the sea. There was no way to sail any ship from this side of the island and not pass through their territory.

“It get’s worse.” Castiel spoke and his hand went to his chest, under the fabric of his shirt. His voice was stoic but his eyes now were haunted, their blues faded nearly to grey. He pulled something from around his neck and then placed it into Dean’s hands.

Dean turned the object over in his fingers. It was a metal key made of some sort of brass alloy secured to a leather cord. It looked recently polished.

“I found that on the beach here when I came to consciousness….” Castiel ran his finger over the main shaft of the key, “I polished it this morning and found it inscribed.”

Dean looked closer and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. He recognized the key. On one side the words ‘non timebo mala quoniam tu mecum es’ in very tiny script. On the other side it said, ‘hoc est, ad sui Impala’. The key was his Dad’s and it belonged on the Impala. He quickly turned to Sam and offered the key. When Sam took it and looked at it his eyes went bright with excitement.

“Cas, how can this be bad?! This is from the Impala….that has to mean Dad hid her somewhere on this island… maybe the other side??” Dean turned to Castiel, green eyes on fire with hope. “This is the island Missouri showed you in your dream isn’t it?”

Castiel looked like he would be sick. “Yes Dean, it is.”

“Well this is great! We won’t need to get the Cerberus…. We’ll just need to scout the other side of the island and….” Dean stopped as he watched Sam’s face fall.

Sam was looking back out over the water, now that the sun was setting over the shoulder of the island and its light wasn’t shimmering over the tops of the waves. Sam lifted his finger and he began to trace along the edge of the deep rift beneath the sea. “Dean look…. Chains….”

Dean could see them now. Great massive chain links that were anchored under the sea floor and lead down into that deep trench and to the lair of the tentacled sea creatures.

Meekly Castiel spoke, “I believe the reason Azazel could not find the Impala…. The reason no one has found her yet…. Is that the Impala lies hidden deep in that trench….”

Dean swallowed hard, his eyes wide and the green in them began to burn like acid. He took in a deep breath and gripped his hands into fists. When he spoke there was no wavering, no fear and no doubt. “So be it then.” His eyes were locked firm out to where the trench was as dark as night and the monsters writhed.

“We will go to the depths of the Skull’s Maw to get her.”

 

 

(to be continued)


	17. Chapter 17

 

 

“Well….. son of a bitch….” Dean was standing sweaty and sticky with seawater, his trousers clinging to his legs, but naked from the waist up and barefoot as well. One hand was on his hip and the other was scratching absently through his wet hair. “Where did that fucker Crowley get this?”

Kevin was standing next to him, in a similar state. Barefoot, shirtless, seawater wet. His black hair slicked back away from his young face. “No idea. But hadn’t you ever wondered why it was claimed this ship moved so fast?”

Dean nodded and took a step forward. They had spent the last three days on the island struggling to come up with some sort of plan to release the Impala. They need to get under the water and see exactly where the Impala sat and how far down she was, and what state she was in. The trench was too deep to just do a basic ‘hold your breath and dive’ reconnaissance.

Like always, Dean had gotten his whole crew together to let them brainstorm while he sat back and stewed in his own thoughts, waiting for his own inspiration to hit him. And then last night Kevin, who had been left out of the discussion thus far since he wasn’t a crewmate, stepped up and had drawn some ideas out in the sand. Kevin had used words like air pressure, diving bell, air pump and diving suit.

Kevin explained that his Mother had been working on building and improving inventions by a man named Pierre Rémy de Beauve and another man named Sieur Fréminet. It was so she could retrieve sunken vessels and their lost treasure that were lost in water too deep to normally dive. So he understood the concepts behind the devices. One was a suit that a man could wear to go farther down under the surface, yet still breathe. The other was a small room several men could be in that would be lowered down and it would carry air for all of them.

Kevin and Sam had a long conversation about known principles in science and Dean had just quietly listened the whole time. When Sam finally said, “This is all good and well, but how to we build this contraption? With what materials?” Kevin had smiled big and wide.

Which is why they had loaded themselves onto the rowboats and made their way back to the wreck of the Cerberus. Because Kevin claimed several key pieces were theirs for the taking if they could remove them from the rock anchored ship.

Now Dean, Sam, Cas and Kevin were standing in the ship’s aft ward just beyond the bilge, all a little wet from their climb onboard. They were standing in the lower rear of the ship, looking at what Kevin had brought them to see.

“I found this the first time I tried to escape.” Kevin crossed his arms over his bare chest and frowned a little. “I wasn’t sure what it was at first, until I had jumped off the back of the ship another night in desperation….”

Before them sat a huge machine made of metal and gears. One end held a large oven or metal fire container. It connected to a big water tank, and then to another chamber, then to the bulk of the metal machine covered in wheels with teeth on their edges. The other end was a thick metal pole that ran out the back of the ship.

“If you look down below the rudder outside the ship, there is a large metal flower connected to the other end of this pole. Crowley called it a ‘propeller’.” Kevin pointed to the fire oven, “They would feed coal or wood into here and then put water in here….” He pointed to another chamber on the machine, “It would heat the water and make steam and that would make this thing…. The engine…. Go….. and turn the flower….propeller….piece.”

Dean followed along, nodding and understanding. He began to run his hands over the machine, asking Kevin questions, and then they began discussing one of Da Vinci’s designs while Sam moved down along the inner hull to inspect how the hole for the pole had been sealed.

Cas hung back, still reticent and unsure, things Missouri had told him circled in his head over and over. A heavy feeling of doom had settled in his chest days ago. Seeing this bizarre machine only made that feeling grow worse.

“We can cut up one of the sails and oil and wax it don’t you think? Make it resist water better.” Dean was talking to Kevin still.

“Yes. Though I don’t know if the rowboats would handle the weight well.” Kevin knocked against one of the chambers of the machine. It rang solid and thick, all metal.

Dean nodded, “We’ll need to construct a flotilla of some kind then.”

“I don’t understand….” Castiel tried to keep his voice from sounding annoyed or worried, but the edge of it was still there. “How is this going to get you past the monsters…. The tentacles…” Castiel swallowed, “Those Leviathans?”

Dean stepped closer to Cas and almost reached out to touch him. They had been sleeping in the single person hammocks, and with the sparse open camp they hadn’t been able to enjoy any alone time. It was getting harder for Dean to keep his hands off Cas, but they had more important things to deal with at the moment. “I don’t know Cas,” He said gently, “I was just tackling one problem at a time. First we need to be able to survive going down into that trench. Once we have that solved, we’ll figure out how to raise the Impala and how to avoid the….” Dean raised a brow, “What did you call them?”

“Leviathan…” The answer came from Sam this time. “Leviathan are sea monsters referenced in the Tanakh, or the Old Testament…..” Sam was walking back to stand beside his brother and Cas, “I always thought it was just another word for whales.” Sam gave a light shrug and a little smile. “How did you know that Cas? Have you studied the Bible?”

Castiel frowned, “I… I don’t know. I just knew that was the proper word for them…”

“It’ll be aright Cas, we’ll figure something out.” Dean did reach out this time and ran his hand over Castiel’s shoulder, pressing his hand to the bare skin there. Dean let his hand stay, fingers flexing into the muscle below Cas’s skin. He licked his lips and pulled away shortly after, a bit afraid he would want to shove Cas down to the floor and put his hands other places. Dean ducked his head away with a blush rising on his cheeks.

“Let’s um, figure out how to unbolt this machine from the ship and get it back onto the island… we can take it apart fully there…..I’ll build a small forge and….” Dean wandered along the perimeter of the machine, rambling on about what it would take to work with the metal, and other things about building Kevin’s diving suits.

Sam followed and questioned and they discussed things. This allowed Castiel to stand off to the side by himself. Cas stepped away and climbed back up to the main deck. The air was better here and he felt a little calmer in spite of how the ship rested at such an odd angle on the rocks. The wind was fitful, not soft but not bracing either and the sun played peek-a-boo behind the clouds in the sky. He found a pile of netting to sit down on, drawing his knees up so he could rest his elbows on them.

Once again the words Missouri had said to him swirled around inside his head. ‘Only you will be able to break the Impala’s chains Castiel.’

He sighed heavily. He had seen how massive the chains were. Thicker and longer than any anchor chain he had ever seen. And there were so many of them. How could one man break those huge chains? How could HE do it? His anxiety spun around in his head and he had to bring his hands into his hair. His skin was cold, clammy and that sense of doom inside him surged up and wouldn’t quit. He had stayed at Dean’s side as Missouri had said he must, becoming entangled to the man, possibly even….

Could he love Dean? Had he fallen in love with Dean? The thought of Dean going off to face those grotesque sea monsters, risking life and limb to raise the Impala…. It made Castiel’s heart hammer in desperation to stop Dean. To protect him, keep him safe.

Castiel lifted his arm and dragged his wet sleeve across his brow as his thoughts continued. They were trying to stop Azazel, to destroy him if they could get the Impala and get the weapon.

But at what cost? Why would John bury the Impala thusly? How did he even accomplish such a thing? Place it some place that would surely take the lives of his sons if they tried to retrieve it? What sense did that make? Was it a mistake? Did John mean to do it or was he forced to or…..

Castiel took in a deep slow breath to try to bring his thoughts back to his control. Bit by bit he shoved the shouting negative thoughts in his head aside until one clear voice was loud in his head now. It drown everything else out.

He did love Dean.

“I love Dean… my heart is his heart.” Castiel lifted his eyes up to the sky and the cold dread washing through him just seemed to anchor itself more firmly. He had to save Dean.

More of Missouri’s words came back to Castiel: “It is here that your test will come Child of Light. It is here you must unlock your hidden self or else that which is most precious to you will be lost.”

Most precious to Castiel was now Dean. If he didn’t know how to access this mysterious something she and Gabriel spoke of, Castiel would lose Dean. He pressed his hands to his face and fought not to cry out, instead channeling it into an inner pleading prayer.

“Please…..” Castiel begged, “How do I do it?”

The breeze picked up and the sun was briefly shuffled behind a thick cloud, but no answer came.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It took Dean four days to construct the small forge he needed, seated in the jungle and not far from the hot springs they had found. It provided access easily to the water he needed, but the jungle was stifling hot here. None of the sweet sea breezes were able to penetrate the thick plant growth. But Dean was driven, and once they had succeeded in pulling the steam-powered machine off the Cerberus, he even brought his hammock down to the forge so he could work more.

After a few days Castiel was the only one who would come down to see Dean as he worked. Sam knew his brother well enough to understand that Dean’s whole focus would be on making the needed parts of the diving suits, and he didn’t take Dean’s unsocial nature personally. The rest of the crew just stayed away because Dean refused to bathe. Dean claimed it took away precious time he could be working.

But Castiel came, smell or not, sweat and grime or not. He would bring down Dean’s meals and grouse until Dean ate, refusing to leave him alone. Sometimes Cas would bring food only to find Dean passed out asleep sitting on the ground next to the forge, tools gasped loose in his hands. Cas would set aside the meal and wrangle Dean into his hammock. He would wait until Dean woke to make sure that Dean still ate.

It was the late afternoon of the fifth day that Dean had been at work on the diving suits when Castiel came down and found Dean in his hammock already for once, blissfully asleep. Cas placed the food he had brought, some mangos, dried pork and the last of their bread, beside the forge. Then he walked over to Dean and lightly stroked his fingers across Dean’s oily brow. Dean was so dirty that Cas couldn’t even seen Dean’s freckles anymore.

Cas must have lingered too long because Dean stirred and opened his eyes. Seeing Castiel there brought a warm smile to Dean’s face. “Hey Buddy.”

Cas returned the smile, “Hello Dean.”

Dean rolled out of the hammock, saw the food and then gave a grateful look to Castiel. Except now he couldn’t help notice how Cas was holding his breath as he stood next to Dean. Dean looked down at his soiled clothing, his itchy grime smeared skin and took in a deep breath. When he gagged on his own scent, he choked out a rough laugh, “Oh sweet Poseidon! I am rank with it!”

Lifting a single brow, Cas said nothing and began to step away. Dean flashed out a hand and caught Castiel’s sleeve. Pinching his fingers in a tight hold on the fabric he tugged, but he backed away as tugged, drawing Castiel along away from the forge. Castiel’s brows pinched up in confusion which caused Dean to smile more.

Dean led them to the hot spring. It was located half in a grotto, probably originating from it. Sam speculated that once this may have been the mouth of a volcano long ago, and this was how the island had been formed. Now the grotto was just filled with the clear warm spring water. It flowed out into a large pool before bubbling over a small tier of rocks. Then the water twisted and sluiced as a small river that ran away through the island. It was at the edge of this pool closest to where it spilled down over the rocks that Dean lead Cas.

Dean pulled his shirt off and dropped it on the bank to the river. With a grin, he began to wiggle out of his pants and boots, and when he looked up at Castiel, Cas was turning away with a grin of his own. Attempting poorly to hide it from Dean.

“Come scrub this filth off me Cas….” Nude now, Dean slipped easily into the warm waters of the pool. “We’ve had good luck being in water together before.” Dean extended his hand to Castiel.

Castiel huffed, feigning annoyance and folded his arms over his chest. They hadn’t touched in over a week, save for that brief moment Dean had placed his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. His smile was still there though, along with a light dusting of pink on his cheeks.

A bit of desperation broke in Dean’s voice as he stretched his hand to Cas, “Please Cas, I haven’t been able to really touch you since the ship was dashed on the rocks…..”

Castiel sighed, “Is that an order Captain?” The blue of Cas’ eyes flickered with something bright and happy however.

“Cas……please….” Dean’s words came softer then, with an undertone of an ache Castiel had never heard from the man before. “I need you.”

Cas’ arms dropped from his sides instantly, and their eyes met and Castiel knew then. He knew no matter what happened, no matter how deep the Skull’s Maw was, no matter how strong the chains were that bound the Impala, no matter how vicious the Leviathan would be…. No matter what…. He would never be anyplace else but with Dean. And he would do whatever he could, give whatever he could, and sacrifice anything to help Dean.

Without thinking he pulled his clothes off, never taking his eyes from Dean’s. He sank into the pool, sank into Dean’s arms, into Dean’s kisses, floating on Dean’s sighs and moans. Castiel washed Dean clean of the work sweat and dirt, then washed over Dean with his hands and his mouth and his adoration.

He pushed Dean against the embankment and covered Dean in kisses, smothered Dean’s body with his seeking mouth, and drew Dean’s flesh deep between his lips. Castiel sucked and licked Dean from one orgasm into another then used his fingers to explore Dean’s body further, deeper, nudging and rubbing until Dean came yet a third time. Pliant and delirious, Dean had then drunk Castiel down until Cas found his release down the back of Dean’s throat.

Later, their passion sated and spent, they just floating together in the pool, arms linked overhead, fingers in each other’s hair blissfully drifting.

When their skin began to prune, they pulled themselves from the pool. Castiel dressed while Dean scrubbed his clothing clean in the river and hung them to dry on some branches. Then they made their way back to the forge area as it began to grow dark.

Dean wrapped up in one of the blankets he had there and Castiel made him eat, peppering him with kisses. Dean would chew a bite, swallow down a gulp of rum and then kiss Cas deeply, the spiced liquor making Castiel’s tongue tingle.

When Dean was done eating, Castiel made to leave, but Dean stood quickly and clasped Castiel’s sleeve once again.

“Stay?” Dean asked hopefully and when Cas quirked up a brow, Dean held up one hand asking him to wait. Dean opened one of the crates that stored some of his tools and supplies and withdrew a new hammock. The rope weave was tighter and narrower and it had two long thick wood poles on either end. With Castiel’s help, they mounted it between two trees. It would easily accommodate both of them.

“Stay?” Dean asked again, gathering up the other blanket he had stored.

Castiel answered in kisses, drawing Dean to lie down with him on the new hammock Dean had built for them. They curled up together and looked up into the night sky above them as they swayed softly. Castiel sighed and as he wove his fingers through Dean’s, he finally felt that nested clump of doom within him un-knot and ease away.

  
 

(to be continued)


	18. Chapter 18

 

 

 

The test trials for the diving suits didn’t go well at first. Of the two Dean built, they both kept leaking around the leg and arm joints and the connection to the breather hose on one kept coming loose. It made Dean irritable, but more determined. He kept Kevin down by the forge for hours on end. He went over and over what Kevin had learned from the Frenchmen’s designs when Kevin’s mother had been trying to build similar suits.

Since the night Dean had set up the double hammock, Castiel hadn’t strayed very far from Dean’s side. He fussed over Dean and made him eat, made him sleep whether Dean wanted to or not. Always with the reassurance to Sam that he would keep watching over Dean to make sure the older Winchester wouldn’t make himself sick in the quest to perfect the suits.

After four days of frustration, it was Charlie that finally found the solution by using a mix of sap from several plants on the island to concoct a gooey sealant that would take care of the joint leaks.

Charlie, Dean and Kevin were in the process of coating that goo where it was required on the suits, while Castiel sat nearby on a rock and turned over the connecting pieces of the breather tubes in his fingers.

Beside him sat the working one, and he had slowly taken them both apart, studying how they fit together and how Dean had forged the metal, how they interlocked. He ran his fingers over their edges and closed his eyes, just feeling their surfaces. Then he held each part up side by side and looked at them.

“Dean, I believe I found your problem.” Castiel lifted the one that failed to remain connected to the suit. “This one is a hairline thicker than the other.”

The trio working on sealing the suits all paused at once and looked at Castiel. Charlie with puzzlement, Kevin was skepticism and Dean with outright curiosity.

“You felt the difference with your fingers Cas?” Dean set the handmade paintbrush down that he was using to coat the goo on the joints and walked over to Castiel.

Castiel blinked once, “I can simply see it Dean.”

Dean frowned and took the pieces from Cas and held them up to look. He scrutinized them as close as he could, but to him they looked identical in size. “I don’t mean to doubt you Cas but…”

Castiel stood up, his face not hiding his irritation. He snatched the parts from Dean’s hands and strode over to the forge. He set them down and began to roll his sleeves up to his elbows. Dean made to step closer to the forge and Castiel shot him an angry look, so Dean backed away and returned to coating the suits with the goo.

“Okay buddy, you have fun with that.” Dean chuckled, and his expression said he didn’t think Castiel would last two minutes at the forge. People without training working with metal usually got frustrated quickly.

Castiel stoked the forge as he had seen Dean do in the past, and pulled on Dean’s work gloves. He picked up the one part that he could see was too thick and got to work on heating the metal a little so he could shave it down to the needed width. He bent close, focused on his task and let everything else around him fall away. His hands danced over the part and the tools and the forge, and Cas could feel that deep hum of vibration singing in his gut once again. He lost track of time, so engrossed in what he was doing he was totally unaware of anything beyond his hands and the work and the tools and the forge.

When he was done, he stood back and admired the finished part. It was now identical to the other one in every way. He drew his sleeve across his brow and smiled, turning to Dean and the others.

They were standing, looking at him with their mouths agape. Their work had halted and Kevin was very obviously standing so the suits and Dean and Charlie were very much in between himself and Castiel. They all three looked spooked, and there was a hint of real fear in their eyes.

“It should work now.” Castiel walked hesitantly to Dean, offering the remade piece.

Dean swallowed, eyes a little wide and took the part from Cas. “Ca…Cas? How long have you known how to forge metal….?”

Castiel paused. He looked down at his gloved hands in confusion. “I…don’t… I have never….” He looked back up at Dean, his own eyes now mirroring the trepidation in everyone else’s eyes.

Dean shifted his weight on his feet and turned the part over in his fingers, “I don’t mean to alarm you Cas, but what you did just now was pretty unreal….”

Charlie stepped close to Dean’s shoulder. “Possession?”

Dean lifted his free hand, “Cas, I want you to just stay really still okay? For me please?”

“Yes Dean.” Castiel looked back down to his hands. How had he known how to use the forge, work the metal? He had been watching Dean do it for days but it was impossible that he had learned the skills by watching, wasn’t it? That warm hum deep inside him was gone now and he felt normal. But what he had just done was not normal at all.

“Kevin, you go on back to the main camp and tell Sam to come down here please.” Dean’s voice was calm and his breathing even, but his eyes were riveted to Castiel. “And Kevin, tell Sam ‘Roanoke’… He’ll know what it means….”

Kevin nodded and fled, running as fast as he could along the thin trail leading back to the main camp on the bluff.

“Charlie, would you be a sweet and get the bag of salt sitting over by those crates?” Still Dean didn’t move beyond tipping his head down to try to catch Castiel’s gaze.

It worked. Cas kept his eyes level with Dean, but his brows were pinched up in confusion. “What’s going on Dean?”

Dean let a kind smile out as Charlie returned with the bag of salt and an iron crowbar. Dean took the salt and stepped closer to Castiel, “Just have a seat Cas, okay? We’ll figure this out.” And with a small nod, Dean started walking around Castiel, forming a salt circle around Cas as he stood. Once it was complete, Castiel sat down in it’s center.

Shortly after he was done, Sam, Benny, Jo and Victor came through the jungle down along the path. They were all openly armed and Sam had a book in his other hand. Sam and Dean traded a look, and the hunters surrounded Castiel but kept back a few paces from the edge of the salt line.

“Your behaviour states you feel I am a threat…” Castiel sat up straight, legs crossed but his hands resting against his hips.

“Just precautions Cas,” Sam reassured with the tone of his voice.

“Cas, when you were working on the forge, you were working incredibly fast.” Dean let out a small nervous chuckle, “I mean at one point we could barely even see your hands they were moving at such a fast rate….. You were so fast you were done with that entire thing in a matter of minutes.”

Castiel took in a breath and looked down at his hands. He thought he had been at work for hours. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do we Cas,” Dean drew in a breath of his own, deep, steeling himself for what they would need to do next. “We’re gonna run some tests on you, see if we can figure this out. Okay?”

Castiel lowered his hands and merely nodded. Dean met his eyes again, and while Dean looked concerned there was something about Dean’s expression that also sent a feeling of reassurance to Cas.

Jo pulled a small knife from her belt and stepped to the edge of the salt line. She handed it over to Castiel who took it and then looked to her for an explanation.

“It’s silver. Turn it over in your hands,” Jo explained, “And when you are ready, we need you to cut your skin someplace.” She glanced around at the other hunters briefly before looking back at Castiel, “Certain supernatural creatures have specific reactions to contact with silver.”

Castiel nodded. He didn’t think he was some sort of creature. He felt the same, felt himself. Yet when he thought back on that warm hum that had vibrated through his skin in the past, and even just this very day, he conceded that perhaps doing these tests would be beneficial. Perhaps he was haunted or infected in some way? Could that be what Missouri had been talking about?

He pulled off Dean’s work gloves and tossed them aside. He fingered over the silver in his bare hands slowly, looking at the elegant little blade. As he shifted his grip on it to draw it across his arm he hesitated. What if this was what Gabriel had been talking about? What if this unlocked all his memories that were missing? What if these tests finally gave him answers to those mysteries?

And then a small voice of doubt said inside him, “What if what you are scares Dean so much he pushes you away?”

Castiel swallowed and drove that thought out of his head. Missouri said whatever it was, he was needed to free the Impala and stop Azazel. Any other consequences didn’t matter. Even if it meant losing Dean’s companionship and being in Dean’s bed.

Castiel drew the knife’s blade across his skin and cut himself. He bled as he assumed he would, bright red warm liquid oozing up through the slice in his skin. He winced at the pain of it, and handed the knife back to Jo. She traded it for a bandage he could use to stop the bleeding.

When she stepped back, Sam took in a breath and in a very bold voice said, “CHRISTO” at Castiel.

Castiel merely blinked. His blue eyes, the same as they had been, landed their gaze on Sam. “The Latin for Christ?”

Sam shrugged, “Bobby told us a while ago that it would cause a Demon possessing someone extreme discomfort and they would show themselves.”

Castiel nodded. “May I stand now?”

Sam held up a hand, and he opened the book he had brought. In very carefully pronounced Latin words, Sam read off an exorcism all the while watching Castiel where he was seated.

Castiel’s stomach growled but other than that there was little change in the former Naval Officer.

“Okay…. So not a shifter or a demon. Cas could you stand up and walk over the salt line?” Dean squeezed the bag of salt a little in one hand while beckoning Castiel to walk towards him.

Castiel stood, then walked out of the circle as easy as could be.

“He’s not possessed by a ghost either.” Sam looked partly relieved and partly puzzled. “I don’t have any explanation for what he did.”

Benny sheathed his sword but his face was dire, “Maybe he’s a witch? Coulda been all this time…. How did we escape from the gallows anyway?”

All eyes turned to Castiel.

“If I am a witch, I’m unaware of it.” Castiel took a deep breath and decided on a risky gamble. He looked at each of them carefully and then opened his hands in surrender, “I am however, missing key pieces of my memories. Things Gabriel, my brother, was insistent that I discover on my own and that he not be the one to enlighten me.”

Castiel continued, “Perhaps I am a witch after all, and I do not remember my training or my studies or whatever it is that a witch does to become a practitioner.” He kept his hands held in a pleading, placating manner, “But if I am a witch, have I not consistently used my skills and abilities in your favour? Have I not saved your lives and done what I could to keep you from harm? Have I not helped?”

The pirates were silent in thought a moment. Sam and Dean once again traded several knowing looks before Sam cleared his throat and called the pirates over to him. He drew them away from Dean and Castiel, walking a bit up the path before they crowded in together to talk.

Dean sighed and walked back over to where Charlie had retrieved the salt. He put it away and then walked to the forge. He busied himself with putting the parts for the breather tube back together and never looked up at his brother or the others once.

Castiel remained where he was, hands lightly on his hips as he scuffed one boot toe against the dirt. If he was a witch, he wished he could recall how to access spells and magic. It would definitely be something that could come in handy in raising the Impala. But perhaps this is why Gabriel was hesitant to tell him everything. Perhaps the price for using such skills and knowledge was too high. But if he was a witch, why hadn’t Missouri just said so, since she herself was considered one?

He was still pondering over these things when Sam and the others returned. Dean stayed at work, not looking up.

“It’s been put to a tentative vote.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Cas, we’ll need to hamper you in some way to keep you from unintentionally blowing up the camp….” Sam side eyed Benny and Victor but then looked back at Castiel. “I have some manacles that are warded to block magic and spell work. Dean made them, and we want you to wear them from now on.”

“I don’t understand, I’ve done nothing to cause grief to any of you.” Castiel let his hands fall to his sides.

Sam looked uncomfortable and said, “It’s been stated that you may be trying to gain our trust, lull us to relax our guard so that you’ll be free to betray us at a later date.” He shot a look in general to the other pirates, but Charlie was the only one who looked a little sheepish. “Because of that, we want you to wear the shackles and to stay back at the main camp with us where we can keep an eye on you.”

Castiel felt his heart grow heavy. He didn’t look at Dean, but he could feel keenly the physical distance between them now. “Very well. I’ll acquiesce to your rules.”

Sam nodded, satisfied and he gestured for the others to leave. “Charley will bring the manacles back down and I’m going to wait here with you and Dean.”

The other pirates left, and Sam went over to sit on one of the crates near the forge. Castiel just stood helplessly and didn’t budge from his spot. He didn’t know what to do. If he fought this, it might incite them to trust him less.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean’s loud and angry voice interrupted Castiel’s thoughts.

Sam and Dean were looking at each other, Sam looking peeved but calm, while Dean was openly seething.

“They have no right to do this Sam! This is Cas. It’s CAS.” Dean flung an arm towards Castiel as if just showing Sam the former Naval Officer’s presence was enough to prove all his arguments.

“They took a preliminary vote Dean. They’ll take another one back up at camp with the rest of the crew.” Sam opened his hands; “Charlie is against keeping Cas on lock down. I am too. She’ll take my vote, and you’re obviously voting to keep Cas free, and she’ll make sure those votes are counted. Benny was on the fence but he’ll vote to put Cas in irons in the interests of the group’s safety. Victor always plays it on the side of caution….”

“….and Jo was raised in the life so she’s going to be suspicious no matter what.” Dean finished for Sam. “Garth will vote against it, but Tamara will vote for it, because she’s just like Jo now.”

“So it will be a tied vote?” Castiel spoke up.

Sam shook his head, “Kevin will break the tie and from the look of fear in his eye earlier, I’d say he’ll vote to keep you chained up too.”

“This is stupid, and annoying, and dumb….” Dean threw one of his work gloves to the ground with a loud smack. “I’m their Captain…. I could order them to….”

“No.” Castiel shook his head.

Both brothers looked up and Castiel ran his fingers through his thick soft hair, “Dean, they know we share a bed, and because of that might feel I have some influence over you. To command them to obey you would only make their distrust of me deepen.” Castiel let his hand fall back to his side once more, “And you encourage them to work as a team, to vote and be fair, as equals with you and Sam. To use their free will. Don’t undermine that. It is one of the things that make you a good leader and it is one of the things that has endeared you to me, Dean.”

At that confession, Sam smiled and hid it behind his hand as Dean’s cheeks and the tips of his ears enflamed to a cherry colour. Dean shuffled and huffed a breath out before dipping his head down shyly.

“Yea well…. It still isn’t necessary for them to be like this with you.” Dean’s words came quietly.

“It will be fine Dean. I’ll miss having you next to me when we sleep though…” Castiel sunk down to sit on the ground again, near the edge of the salt circle.

Sam didn’t hide his smile now, and gave Dean a firm clap on the shoulder before wandering to the edge of the area to give his brother and Castiel some alone time before the other’s returned.

Dean fidgeted with the forge tools a moment, then set them aside and went to sit down beside Castiel. “Cas… can you tell me what was going through your head when you were working at the forge? Did you hear a voice speaking to you or did it feel like something was using your hands to do the work or….?”

Castiel turned his head so he and Dean could meet eye to eye. “I… I focused on what needed to be done. I could just…. I could just see it inside my head Dean. I could see what needed to be done to fix it, and I just knew somehow what I needed to do to achieve that. My mind didn’t think on anything else. I just worked.”

Dean nodded. “And what about when we were in Port Royal and you were on the gallows?”

Castiel’s brows pinched up again, “I don’t remember much. One moment I was falling, the trap door beneath my feet giving way and then I felt the snap of the rope on my neck…. Or I thought I did…. And then there was all this heat coming from inside me, and light and….”

“The light, I saw it.” Dean moved close, so they could talk in hushed voices, their faces close, “It was bright blue white. And I could…. I dunno, feel it.”

“What did it feel like?” Castiel couldn’t look away from Dean’s wide eyes, which were filled with awe and wonder.

“It felt good Cas. Really good. Like what I’ve seen in my dreams.” Dean whispered, “It felt…. Safe. Like…. home.” Dean lifted his head just slightly so his lips were near Castiel’s. “You feel like home to me Cas….”

Dean leaned in and placed a soft kiss to Castiel’s lips then, and Castiel gave one back in kind before Dean went to pull back. They came together then, tenderly, gently. Sweet kisses that lingered a bit more each time until Sam made a loud cough and noisily stomped his way back towards them.

Castiel looked up at Sam, “With your permission, when we return to the main camp, could you and I discuss something?”

“Ugh, sure Cas…” Sam looked back and forth between Castiel and Dean, his face brimming with curiosity. “What is it?”

“I think it would be helpful if I recounted the events at the gallows and what occurred here today at the forge in as much detail as possible. As much as I can remember.” Castiel nodded. “And perhaps you could write it all down. We may be able to sort through everything and understand what is happening to me.”

“I think that’s a great idea.” Dean reached over and took one of Castiel’s hands into his. “Pure research is Sam’s strongest point. I’m sure between his brain and his books you’ll find answers.”

Castiel squeezed Dean’s hand once, “Good. I want to tell both of you everything.”

 

 

(to be continued)


	19. Chapter 19

 

 

 

The manacles themselves were rather chunky and heavy and awkward. They were a full inch of iron both in thickness and in width, large protruding bolts sticking out where the chains attached, where they locked closed. The hinges were large as well. They were meant to hold demons in check, or other monsters that preyed on the living. When Dean had crafted them, he made them to irritate “those murdering sons of bitches” as much as possible. He never dreamed one day he’d have to affix them to the wrists of his lover.

Dean did remove the chains once the manacles were locked onto Castiel and he did so with a deep apology written in his eyes.

Castiel didn’t care. He was a soldier. He would endure. When they would rub at his skin, he simply would shift his arms or hands and move the manacle briefly. When they chaffed, Castiel said nothing. He refused to complain, more concerned at how his discomfort might stir Dean’s ire at the situation, and cause Dean to butt heads with his crew.

The interesting thing about the manacles were the symbols and sigils carved into their surfaces. Castiel found himself studying them often and running his fingers over them again and again. A part of him felt like he knew what they meant and how they worked, and that only fueled the idea in his head that he must be a witch. Even if that notion didn’t feel quite correct.

As Dean completed the diving suits, Castiel and Sam spent the days huddled over a rough-hewn table in the main camp buried in books and papers they had found on the Cerberus. They also had a few books of Sam’s that he had been able to load on the ship before they had fled Port Royal.

As they worked, Castiel would tell Sam everything he could remember. He told Sam everything Missouri had said to him on the Seraph and in his dream. He recounted his conversation with Gabriel and every sensation Castiel had felt throughout his time in Port Royal. Throughout, Sam would nod and remain impassive, withholding his thoughts on the matter. He would ask pointed questions, but then keep his theories to himself. Castiel presumed that Sam didn’t want to say anything until he was more certain of the facts.

It was during one of their research sessions that Garth came up hefting the Cerberus’ bell. He placed it on the end of the table and remained where he was with an expectant look on his face. Sam looked at the bell, then to Garth and as Garth began to smile, so did Sam.

“So?” It was obvious that Sam knew what Garth was going to say, but he wanted to hear it spoken anyway.

“My initial theory was correct.” For his part, Garth looked ridiculously pleased with himself.

“I knew it!” Sam stood up. His anticipation was growing.

“Sound vibrations draw the tentacles. I’ve done many tests and without fail….” Garth smoothed one hand against the bell’s surface. “They go for the noise.”

Castiel’s eyes went wide when it came to him what they were talking about. “You strike the bell under water and it draws the Leviathan to it?”

“Yes, exactly!” Garth’s grin went wide. “I figure we can lower the bell into the water when Sam and Dean are down in the diving suits. The noise will draw the critters away from the Skull’s Maw and give Sam and Dean some time to look around at the state of things down there.”

Castiel stood and one of his manacles dragged noisily against the table. “May I see?”

With an excited grin, Garth picked up the bell and nodded towards the cliffs. “Let’s go!”

Ten minutes later Garth was lowering the bell on a set of long ropes over the side of the cliff. He had rigged it so that when one of the ropes was tugged, it knocked the bell’s hammer against its side and caused it to ring. The bell went into the water below and Garth jerked hard on the rope several times.

In moments the mass of tentacles was slithering and splashing towards the cliffs, coasting away from the trench’s depths. The Leviathan swarmed the area and when Garth rung the bell underwater again, the tentacles began to weave their way up the side of the cliff face. They could reach a little more than half way up, but they didn’t threaten to make it as far as where Sam and Cas and Garth were standing.

Sam and Garth hauled the bell up out of the water, swaying it now and then to keep it from being tangled into a tentacle.

“They’ll stay put for about five minutes before they wander back to the trench. I can leave the bell in the water…. They don’t seem to understand that’s what’s making the noise. They don’t try and yank it away. So when you boys take your dive, I can keep them occupied here for a time.” Garth set the bell on the ground and gave it a little pat.

“This is fantastic Garth. It should give Dean and I time to look around down there.” Sam cast his eyes out over the waves. “Hopefully the Impala isn’t smashed up and lying in pieces on the ocean floor. I’m starting to be worried about what it may take to raise her.”

Castiel felt his heart squeeze a little in his chest. He hoped so deeply that Sam would be able to come to understand what was inside Castiel, and unlock his memories. He wanted so badly to help the brothers and give them back their beloved ship.

“Sam, can we return to work now?” Cas rubbed one hand along his arm, tense and eager.

“Sure Cas…” Sam gave Garth a nod, “Nice work Garth.” And Garth in return gave back a huge smile. Sam turned back towards the encampment and walked side by side with Castiel.

“So Cas I was thinking…. The others want you here in the camp when Dean and I dive….” Sam let his fingers reach out and brush against the plants as they walked, “But I think I’d rather have you on the flotilla keeping an eye on the air pump with Charlie and Benny.”

“I’d prefer that as well Sam.” Castiel clasped his hands behind his back, pressing the metal manacles against himself to keep them from clanking as they walked.

Sam let out a small frustrated sigh, “And another thing…. And I don’t want you to lose hope but….”

“You still have no idea how or why I’ve been able to do what I have been able to do.” Castiel lifted his head and his eyes tracked along the tree line.

“I wish we would have met up with Missouri. I would be really nice to get some answers.” Sam chuckled.

Cas just shook his head, “Or to have Gabriel just tell me.”

Sam walked a little further before he looked sidelong at Castiel, “I didn’t see your brother display any fancy light shows or work with his hands at a rapid god-like pace.”

Castiel lifted one brow quickly and half nodded his head at a tilt. “Granted. However he seemed to be in command of a vast amount of wealth and he never said where it came from.”

“Hmmm. The owner of that estate did seemed to vanish under odd circumstances.” Sam agreed. Then he paused walking and leveled an honest and serious gaze at Castiel. “What do you think you are Cas? Do you think you’re a witch?”

Castiel stopped walking and faced Sam, “My gut tells me that’s an incorrect assessment, but logically? Being a witch would explain a great deal.”

“That’s what my gut tells me too Cas.” Sam was about to say more when Dean came jogging up the path to meet them.

He was sweaty and smiling, and his green eyes were as bright as springtime. “They’re ready.”

“The suits?” Sam raised his brows.

“Yea. We just finished the tenth underwater tests. No leaks, no problems with the pump, the hoses get a little awkward the farther away they get from the pump but under water that shouldn’t be a problem.” Dean was practically giggling with delight.

Sam’s eyes went wider and a small smile came over his face, “This is great. As soon we can figure out what Cas is, we can dive…..”

“No…” Dean shook his head. “We dive tomorrow. Soon as the sun is high enough. I’m not waiting another day to get a look down there at my Baby.”

“But Dean,” Sam frowned a little and gestured towards Cas.

“Sam, we are just going down to look. We aren’t going to risk more than that.” Dean’s smile faded, “C’mon man. I have to know what shape she’s in. If she’s crushed then we shouldn’t waste anymore time even considering raising her. We’ll need to focus on finding the weapon Dad left behind, and then put our energy into getting the Cerberus sea worthy.”

Sam let off an exasperated sound but Castiel stepped up and met Dean’s eyes with a serious look of his own. “Sam, Dean is right. If the Impala is just flotsam we’ll need to give our attentions to retrieving the weapon and making our way off the island.”

Dean nodded, “Sam, we gotta get Azazel. For every day we stay here, he gets to be free to kill another girl…. Another mother.” Dean’s look soured, “I can’t live with that.”

Sam took in a deep breath and looked up at the sky a moment. When he brought his eyes back down he looked at his brother for a long moment.

“Okay.” Sam let his reticence go with an expelled breath. “We’ll dive tomorrow.”

 

 

(to be continued)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The diving suit that I based Dean and Sam's on is pictured at the end of the chapter.

 

 

 

Castiel hadn’t slept well. The manacles dug into his skin if he rolled to his side, if he tucked his hand under his head they bit into his scalp. They woke him with their solidity and their weight. Even more than those, Castiel couldn’t sleep because his insides were clumped and clotted with real worry. He had told Dean he supported the dive but in truth he wished they would hold off. And now as the thin pink of dawn twinkled through the branches near his head, Castiel wished he had sided with Sam and tried to get Dean to wait.

Cas lifted his head from his hammock to see that Dean was already awake and out of his. Dean was pulling on a light undershirt and nudging Sam’s hammock with his hip. Sam stirred and grumbled, but then soon followed. The brothers dressed silently, focused on pulling on their clothing.

When Dean saw that Castiel was awake, he threw Cas a blinding smile and then hopped off their shared platform down to the ground. Sam wasn’t far behind him. Castiel drew himself up and off his own hammock, then dressed himself and followed.

They all had a light breakfast and then Benny, Dean, Jo, Sam and Castiel headed down to the beach with the diving suits. Garth, Tamara, Charlie, Victor and Kevin made their way to the cliff to wait for Dean’s signal to draw the Leviathan away.

On the beach waited the flotilla; already mounted with the air pump and two smaller anchors the crew had pulled off the Cerberus. The flotilla itself was built like a large outrigger canoe using one of the lifeboats as it’s main pontoon and a sturdy platform of wood as it's deck. The suits were loaded on, and then the flotilla was launched into the surf. It took Benny, Dean, Castiel and Sam all paddling to breach the wave crests and bring the flotilla away from the shoreline.

The waves were slight, but still a bit choppy. Overhead the sky was dotted with sparse clouds, the sun flickering bright over the surface of the water. There was a slight breeze coming from the west, but overall the weather was favorable.

They maneuvered the flotilla as close as they could to the trench without attracting the attention of the Leviathan, and the Sam began to wrangle into one of the diving suits.

Dean paused and drew Castiel aside briefly. He gingerly took Castiel’s arms into his hands and brought Cas’s wrists up into his view. With a pained frown he smoothed his fingertip against the places where the manacles were leaving red worn marks on the skin. Then he brought his lips to the marks and placed kisses filled with such sweet tenderness to them that Castiel had to close his eyes and hold fast least his knees give way beneath him. Then Dean reached close and placed a similar kiss at the corner of Castiel’s mouth.

“When I get back, these are coming off. I don’t care what anyone says.” Dean let his mouth hover at Castiel’s a breath more and then he was pulling away to get his diving suit on.

The suits were bulky things, their bodies made from some of the Cerberus’ sail cloth, the outer layer oiled down and fortified with wax to keep as much water out as possible. The fabric underneath was heavily padded and quilted. The forearms and wrists laced up tight, and then heavy thick leather gauntlets covered their hands. The boots were a combination of leather and metal, the ankle joints being the part that had been leaking until Charlie had discovered the sealant. These too laced tight to the brother’s calves. The last piece to go on was the head bonnet. Made entirely of metal, it screwed into place around the shoulder to a thick leather bib on the suit. The weight of it rested on the men’s shoulders and the headpiece was a section of the large metal tube that had been part of the machine that used to drive the Cerberus propeller. The air tubes and pipes were also scavenged from the Cerberus' strange machine, and those plugged into the helmet directly. Porthole windows had been removed from the Cerberus as well, and fashioned into faceplates. On their backs were places to lash ropes that would keep them tethered to the flotilla as they went under the water.

Benny's job today was to maintain the air pump and keep it cranked up, working. Jo’s job was to manage the rope tethers, make sure the brothers had plenty of slack to move about, and to keep an eye on the ropes and the air hoses. When the brothers needed hauled up, they were going to release one of the large cork stoppers that were now hanging from their outer suit belts. The corks were the size of small canon balls and had originally sealed the large rum casks on the Cerberus. They would come floating to the surface easily.

Jo pulled a small cracked mirror from her pocket. She used it to flash sunlight towards the cliff face and waited for Garth’s answering flash.

Then the five of them turned their focus on the dark waters of the trench.  
  
The waves over it were unbroken by any tentacles, but the five of them could see them writhing and twisting beneath the surface. Then all at once they seemed to shift and surge away, heading for the cliffs.

The instant the Leviathan began to move from the trench to make their way to the cliffs, Benny and Castiel hefted the oars on the flotilla and with all their might they pulled and paddled to bring the flotilla right to the very edge over the lip of the trench. Once in position, Benny heaved one of the anchors over the side and into the water, and Castiel did the same with the other. Jo finished bolting down the diving suit bonnets on Sam and Dean while Benny cranked up the air pumps.

Castiel pulled a spyglass from his belt and took a quick look back at the cliff side. The Leviathan’s tentacles were reaching and dancing up out of the water there, slithering up the cliff face and chasing the noise that Garth and the others were making. Then Castiel collapsed the glass, tucked it back into his belt and lay down on his belly at the edge of the flotilla. Castiel gripped the wooden planks there and dunked the top half of his body over the side into the water.

Once under, he opened his eyes and looked around under the waves.

The bright midday sun glittered and lit up the sea beneath the waves, long bright fingers of light dancing down highlighting everything. Castiel could see the edge of the trench, and how the volcanic rock sheared off and fell away down into darker water. The rim of the trench was caked rich with sea life and corals, but in the places where the huge chains ripped up through the sea floor and pushed over the side of the trench and down; those areas were void of life.

The chains themselves were massive, each link being the size of a horse carriage and the material appeared jet matte black. It did not reflect or highlight in the sun, but seemed more to shun the light entirely.

Castiel took a quick count of the chains he could see before he pulled himself back up out of the water to gasp in a breath. The view of the chains and their number had left Castiel feeling helpless and worried once more. They were imposing and impossible.

The soft hum and chug of the air pump was rhythmic and steady now, and both brothers were giving the sign that they could breathe. Sam went first over the edge, taking a simple step over and then landing with a splash, both feet first. He sank below rapidly, the metal on the suit helping to draw him down.

Inside the metal bonnet Dean mouthed something to Castiel, but Cas couldn’t make it out. Dean pumped a gauntlet-covered fist up and then followed Sam.

Once the brothers were under the water, Benny primed the air pump a little faster as they had practiced in their tests. His hands and eyes never leaving the machine. Jo crouched at the edge of the flotilla and busied herself with the ropes and tubes and hoses.

Castiel took another deep breath and plunged under over the side again. Sam was already at the bottom, taking large strides and already at the very edge of the trench. He was standing right beside one of the huge chain links and running a hesitant gauntlet over its surface. Soon Dean was beside Sam and they were examining the chain, touching it, and running a gloved hand gently on it.

Castiel sat up out of the water and shook his wet hair away from his eyes. He drew in another deep breath before plunging under again.

The brothers had moved away slightly from the chain to peer over the lip of the trench and down. The brothers traded hand signals and then Dean was turning with his back to the trench. Sam wrapped one of Dean’s rope tethers around an arm, and then Dean began to walk backwards over the edge, making his way down the side and into the trench. Sam braced himself against the side of the great chain, and eased his brother down.

Castiel pulled back up out of the water for more air. He had lost sight of Dean as he had gone down. He caught his breath and shared what he had seen with Benny and Jo.

“Not surprised that them chains look worse up close. I have an unsettling feelin’ about them.” Benny didn’t look back at Castiel, still keeping his focus on the air pump.

“I’d love to know what made Ol’ Daddy Winchester think putting the Impala down there was a good idea….” Jo frowned. “Truth is, I’d like nothing more than to get that weapon, get the Cerberus sea ready, and then place as many leagues as possible between us and this place.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Castiel drank in another deep breath and then hung himself half into the water once more.

Sam was still in place, leaning against one of the massive chains, letting rope out slowly. His whole focus was on his brother who was somewhere deep below in the trench.

Castiel took a moment to look around once again, taking in his view of sea floor. It was then that he realized that he could hear the sound of the air pump under the water. Castiel came up to the surface again, and this time sat back on his knees. He drew out the spyglass and set his sights on the cliff face.

The Leviathan were still over there, stirring up the surf and waves below the cliff. Castiel closed the spyglass and replaced it into his belt. His manacles made a loud clank and he instantly silenced them by bringing them against his stomach. It didn’t seem that the Leviathan were aware of the flotilla or the sound of the air pump, but there was no reason to make any extra noise and test it.

Castiel went over the side once more to take stock of the brother’s progress.

Sam was still at the edge, though he had bent his knees deeper and now appeared to be leaning back, as if countering Dean’s weight on the other end. Then Castiel saw Sam’s foot slide on the sea floor and in trying to hold his position, Sam went to brace himself further using the side of the chain.

Castiel saw what was going to happen a mere second before it did, and even if he had time to warn Sam, it's doubtful Sam would have heard it.

Castiel saw Sam slip, and lurch to the side. The metal bonnet of the suit connected to the side of the huge chain and the sound of it rang out under the water loud and clear. Sam pushed away from the chain, but in doing so hit the side of the chain again with the other edge of the unwieldy awkward metal headgear.

The sound of the two metals touching was like a gong and the noise of it peeled through the water with dreadful finality.

Castiel flew up out of the water with a shout. “Jo! Pull them back! Pull them back!”

Castiel didn’t need to use the spyglass to see if the Leviathan were coming. Their gurgling roars breaching the water’s surface caused both Benny and Jo’s heads to snap around. The Leviathan were rampaging back to the flotilla, surging through the waves with incredible speed before they dived down below the surface, still aiming directly for Benny, Jo and Cas.

Castiel was at Jo’s side in an instant, helping her heave, pulling back the rope tethers as fast as possible, trying to pull the brothers back up to the surface. Benny left the air pump and joined them, and the three of them pulled and pulled and pulled.

Castiel’s manacles cut hard into his flesh as they did, but the pain was over ridden by his fear as the water around them grew dark with snaking tentacles and as the waves sloshed higher and higher. The clouds above them seemed grow heavy and dark, and the sun was blotted away quickly.

When the three of them heaved again and the rope flew up out of the water, broken and severed along with the clipped ends of the air hoses and tubes, Jo let out a cry of despair. Benny’s face paled and he moved quickly to grasp one of the axes he had brought with them. Tentacles began to curl up out of the water around them, surrounding the flotilla.

Three of the creature’s appendages dashed up onto the flotilla a heartbeat later. One went for Benny, lashing out at his midsection only to find the sharp edge of Benny’s axe. The axe nicked the tip of the tentacle and made it jerk back. Another went for the air pump. It wound around the machine and began to crush it slowly, the metal whining and crunching as it was squashed in the monster’s grip. The last went for Castiel, snaking fast around his leg and twisting tight. It was there one moment, and then strangely, it released.

The Leviathan tentacles slipped below the water as fast as they had come leaving the flotilla battered and nearly crushed from their onslaught. Immediately the three on the flotilla dashed to the edge and looked down into the water.

“It’s going after Sam and Dean….” Castiel grimaced and ripped off his shirt, shredding it with his hands in his haste to rid himself of it. He turned to Benny and extended his hand out, “An axe if you would please…”

Benny blinked, but still passed the axe in his hand over to Castiel. Castiel nodded at Benny once, tightened his grip on the handle of the axe. Then with a small leap, Castiel dove over the side and into the churning tentacle filled waters.

Castiel was down twenty feet below the water and swimming down fast. Cutting as quickly through the sea water as his body allowed.

One of the tentacles sailed past him, nearly swatting him. Castiel reached out with his free hand and gripped hold of it and let it yank him down deeper to the edge of the trench. There were tentacles wriggling and slithering everywhere through the water, twisting against the chains and snapping out to try to snag at Castiel.

He let go of the tentacle he held fast to when he saw Sam, and dived towards him.

Sam was knotted up, one tentacle wrapped around his torso and his arm, squeezing tight. Sam was yelling something inside his diving bonnet but Castiel couldn’t hear him. Instead Cas cut away the tentacle with Benny’s axe, and once Sam was freed he pushed Sam towards the surface. Sam had somehow lost the heavy metal boots and this allowed him to start to float to the surface.

Castiel didn't wait. He immediately dived deeper over the lip of the trench.

The water began to cloud with the blood of the creature from the wound Castiel had inflicted, and it made it difficult to see. Castiel dived deeper, below the clouded water, going right down along the wall of the trench. The pressure of the water here began to squeeze at Castiel making his head hurt and his lungs burn. He knew he would be out of air soon but he had to find Dean. He pushed lower and there…. Clinging to the side of the trench wall was Dean, his suit flayed disastrously open, his left arm completely out of the suit and exposed to the ocean.

Castiel swam to him, pushing with every ounce of strength he possessed, but his vision beginning to pinch and waiver. He reached Dean and extended his hand out to touch Dean’s upper arm just where it came to meet his shoulder. When Dean felt Castiel's hand touch, he turned his helm around to Cas. He looked furious, angry.

He mouthed out “CAS NO!” And then his expression abruptly changed to one of surprise and pain.

Tentacles were surrounding them now, and one had whipped past Dean, flaying the back of his suit open as well as his skin. Clouds of Dean’s blood now floated out into the darkening waters and Castiel’s lungs seized up. As Dean’s grip on the side of the trench wall began to slip, Castiel choked, the last of the air in his lungs no longer there.

Dean began to slip down into the darker depths of the trench and Castiel, even as his lungs filled with seawater and he convulsed, he gripped hard to Dean’s shoulder and their eyes met one last time.

 

Castiel followed Dean into the deep as they both sank.

 

 

 

(to be continued)

 

  


[(source for diving suit image)](http://www.oobject.com/12-diving-suits/deep-sea-diver-suit-from-historical-society-of-washington-dc/8551/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness of this update. When you are your only source of income and have no family near you, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to survive, and sometimes that takes priority over the good stuff like writing fun pirate stories. 5,000 thank yous for your kind patience. xo


	21. Chapter 21

 

 

There was nothing but crushing cold and impenetrable darkness.

The pain in Castiel’s heaving lungs had waned to a dull throb and now there was only the slowing thump-thump-thump of his dying heart. It filled his ears and as it slowed Castiel felt colder and colder, his body going completely numb.

His consciousness flickered once and then nothing.

 

 

\----------------

 

 

Castiel’s body sank, his hand still gripped to Dean’s shoulder as Dean struggled, trying to swim up, the last of the air in his bonnet growing sour. But he couldn’t swim up with the metal boots dragging him down and the hot sting of the open wound on his back made it impossible for him to reach down and free himself from them.

As they sank deeper into the trench, the darkness grew steadily thicker until Dean could barely see Castiel beside him. He managed to pull Castiel closer so they were face to face, and Dean cried out when he saw Castiel’s once blue eyes staring back at him dull and gray and empty.

Dean abruptly bumped into something in the dark and when he turned his head he realized his suit had caught itself on the top most point of the main mast of the sunken Impala.

‘How fitting’ He thought as the last of his air burned out of his lungs. He was wearing a trashed diving suit, clinging onto the body of the man he had loved, and spending his last breath snagged to the sunken Impala. He was beyond the sun’s light, beyond help and beyond hope.

Dean bumped his faceplate against Castiel’s forehead and whispered out, “See you on the other side Cas….”

 

“No….”

 

Dean blinked, his eyes growing dimmer, but he had heard…..he thought….

Dean gasped with the last of his breath.

Castiel’s eyes were bright.

Blue white searing pinpricks of light were lancing out through his pupils and growing brighter, swallowing up the whole of Castiel’s eyes. The light began to pour out of Castiel’s nostrils and his mouth opened and more of the light shot out there. Soon all of Castiel’s body was thrumming and pulsing with brilliant light, chasing off the darkness around them. Castiel was becoming so bright Dean had to close his eyes and hide his face against the inside of the diving suit’s bonnet.

Dean realized suddenly his breath was coming fast and his heart was beating strong and wild. He could breathe, somehow! The air was no longer growing rank inside the suit. He could feel Castiel’s hand gripping into the muscle of his shoulder tighter and tighter, until the skin began to tingle and then burn. That burning sensation felt electric, like the air during a storm as lightning danced in the heavens. Yet somehow it felt pleasurable, ecstatic.

The light beyond Dean’s clenched closed eyes abated and he opened them, both terrified and curious in equal measure.

Castiel had coalesced into solid light before Dean’s eyes and Dean held his breath in awe. Dancing rings of brighter light circled above Castiel’s head, throwing impossible sparks off into the water around them. Behind Castiel, massive wings that looked as if they were compiled of the night sky rippled and swayed in the water.

Still holding fast to Dean’s shoulder, Castiel swooped with preternatural ease down through the ocean. They made several passes along the Impala from different angles and Dean could see now the state that the Impala was in.

She was fully formed and seemingly without any damage. The great chains that had draped down the sides of the trench – and Dean could see now just how incredibly deep they were – all came to wrap around the Impala’s hull to bind her tightly. They came together at the prow of the ship and were gathered and held fast by a massive padlock as large as Dean himself.

Castiel drew Dean with him as he approached the lock, and Dean saw that it had no keyhole. Instead it was covered in symbols and runes much like the ones on the chest that supposedly held the Peaches of Immortality. Dean watched and Castiel reached out with his free hand and began to draw the tip of his finger lightly over the runes.

As he watched and the runes and symbols lit up with a light of their own, Dean’s brain tried to wrap his head around the absurdity of all of this. Surely these were his death throe hallucinations, the last of his consciousness gifting him with a fanciful dream to ease him into his dying sleep.

When the runes and symbols were all glowing, the lock made a loud metallic sound and released, falling away from the chains to land with a muted thud on the floor of the trench. Castiel began to touch each of the chains now, and they began to crack away brittle and break. The chains sifted off from the Impala turning to dark dust, floating off into the ocean.

As the last of the chains vanished, there was a great bellowing from above them. Dean looked up to see the Leviathan swimming down to them, and he cringed in terror now that he could see the thing fully. He had expected it to be a giant squid or octopus but instead it was nothing but a ball of squeezing twisting black appendages with a massive mouth at its center. The mouth peeled open and Dean could see hundreds of needle sharp teeth in rows rimming the opening.

It roared under water again, and the sea around Dean vibrated with it.

Castiel raised one hand and when a tentacle came snapping out to strike him, he caught hold of it. Castiel’s touch made the Leviathan thrash and wail, and where he touch it, its flesh began to liquefy. It melted and the black goo oozed and dripped down to the bottom of the trench. Castiel ran his hand and fingers up and over each tentacle, as if he was simply wiping the creature from existence with his caress.

Soon all that was left of the monster was a large blob of black sludge resting thickly on the trench bottom.

When the Leviathan was gone, Castiel flew around with Dean to the helm of the Impala and he placed Dean at the wheel. He let go of Dean. Shaking, Dean held onto the Impala’s wheel for dear life. Castiel leaned in once, as if to kiss Dean’s faceplate, but then he shot away, illuminating the waters around him as he went.

Castiel dipped under the Impala and a half second later Dean felt the Impala lurch and shudder. She broke away from the bottom of the trench and began to swiftly rise. She gained speed as she lifted towards the surface and Dean wrapped his arms tight to the wheel, bracing himself for when the Impala crested the surface of the sea and sailed up and out. The water current dragged at him hard, trying to pull him free of his hold.

When the Impala punched through to the surface, it was like hitting a wall. Dean’s grip slipped a little, knocking his feet out from under him. The ship soared through the air for a brief moment before she landed with a gigantic splash. As she bobbed and rolled and settled, Dean dropped to the surface of the quarterdeck. His whole body was shaking from the ordeal. With a struggle he clawed the damaged bonnet of the diving suit off his head and shoulders, letting it clang to the deck in an awkward way.

Slowly he dragged himself up onto his feet and he staggered to the edge of the rail to look out. On the port side of the ship, the flotilla rocked in the Impala’s wake. Benny and Jo and Sam, still in his diving suit, were sprawled out on its small deck. They were alive, soaked to the skin and staring up at Dean and the Impala in shock and surprise.

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice came quietly from behind Dean.

Dean whirled around as best as he could in his ragged diving suit.

Castiel, still glowing bright with his fathomless star splattered wings and his sparking halos, was standing a few feet from Dean. Waves of tingling energy poured off Castiel and it made Dean’s skin come alive.

“I’ve released the Impala, and your injuries are healed.” Castiel’s voice sounded like it was under the water still somehow, bubbling or warbling, but it began to soften to his normal voice, and the brightness began to fade. “I’m an angel Dean, please help me remember this…when I wake up?”

The shining light dimmed, and the wings and halos evaporated like water to steam and air. Castiel, his usual body, shirtless and barefoot, wobbled briefly and before he collapsed onto the quarterdeck. His wrists were bare of the manacles. Their iron was gone and no hint of them remained.

Dean launched himself to Castiel’s side and cupped Castiel’s head into his hands. “Cas….. Cas!”

Cas was breathing, his heart was beating, but he was unconscious. He was limp in Dean’s hands, but warm and whole.

Trembling Dean looked up around himself. The Impala was just as he had remembered it. Elegant and beautiful, her dark nearly black wood shone and glistened in the setting sunlight. She was perfect, and seated in the water just as easy as you please.

Dean looked back down to Castiel, bent over and planted a huge kiss to Castiel’s forehead. “You crazy son of a bitch. An angel…. They’re real and you’re one of them.”

As he hugged Castiel closer, Dean saw his shoulder where Castiel had gripped him. There was a bright handprint on his skin now, the exact size and shape of Castiel’s own hand. Dean let off a breathy chuckle, “Even with this mark, no one is ever gonna believe me Cas…. No one….”

Dean lifted his head and looked up into the lovely twilight sky. He kept Castiel close and waited for his brother and his crew to join him on their rightful ship.

 

 

(to be continued)


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deepest apologies for the painfully horrible hiatus.  
> I'm trying to finish this... but I don't want to rush this or make it half-assed.  
> (I don't want to mess it up like I did Slaughter House Four, my rock band AU)
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE IF YOU ARE COMING BACK TO THIS FIC  
> I appreciate it more than I can say.
> 
> If you are coming back, I did do some minor rewrites from the beginning to fix continuity errors  
> and add in some suggestions made in the comments.  
> You might want to got back and start over from the start. (sorry)

 

 

It felt cool to the touch in Dean’s hand. His father’s old mirror, the one John used to see to trim his beard, rested in Dean’s palm now. It was remarkably unsullied and untarnished after sitting under water with the Impala for over six years. The entire interior of the Impala had remained in a similar state. Whatever enchantment or power had anchored and hidden the Impala away for all this time had also sealed and preserved everything inside her.

She was exactly as Dean had last seen her: a modified Galley ship, some hundred feet long with square sail rigging on her main and had triangle sails on her mizzenmast and foremast. John had removed the poop deck, so that the quarterdeck was the roof on the back room at the rear of the ship, as well as the roof for the other sleeping cabins. The Impala had a lean bowsprit that John had also modified to aid in making her more streamlined and she sported sixteen regular canon in the gun deck, eight to each side. She also carried two heavier canon just past the mainmast and just above the gun deck. These were what John had called “mast breakers” and he only used them when he needed to keep the ship they were taking from fleeing. She had two more aft canons pointing to the rear and two at the prow to fire under the bowsprit. She was swift, maneuverable and lethal when engaged in combat.

And at the moment she was perfect and pristine. She didn’t even have any barnacles on her hull. Dean had checked.

The brothers had also discovered that all of John’s books and hunting gear, all the Impala’s weapons cache, her sails, her ropes, even the sheets on the bunks were all clean and even fresh. Her anchors had been tucked carefully in the main hold, as were all her rigging and gear.

Dean was standing in his father’s quarters thinking all of this over in his mind, and replaying what he had experienced in the depths of that trench before the Impala had been raised. He replayed in his head what had happened to he and Sam. What had happened with Castiel.

Dean drew in a deep breath and replaced the mirror into the small drawer built in under the washbasin in John’s old cabin berth, exactly where John had left it. Dean took a look around the space and wiped his hand over his face.

John’s quarters was one of six identical sleeping cabins located two and two along the hallway that lead back to what originally had been built as the Captain’s quarters. When John bought the Impala, he had converted the Captain’s cabin into a makeshift library and research space. It was there John had kept all his lore books, all his warded chests and cabinets, all his hex bags and herbs. Everything he had needed as a hunter. The walls, floor and ceiling were warded much like Bobby and Ellen’s library.

John had slept and kept his personal effects in the starboard side room just outside of the Captain’s quarters, with what had been Sam and Dean’s shared cabin next door. It was a slightly larger one, with two separate berths and it’s own washbasin and chamber pot.

The last time Dean had stayed in there with Sam was eight years ago or more, before John had sent them off to Bobby. When John had apparently headed off to see Missouri, and later to sail with the pirates on the China Seas. After which John had found Grigori Brown on the Seraph which had lead to John’s death. Dean had no idea when John had sunk the Impala, or even how he could have managed such a thing.

“Dean?” Sam was at the open cabin door, his face hesitant even though a small fond smile was on his lips. He was bent a bit at the shoulders, head tilted down, trying to appear benign. As if Dean needed placating while in John’s former room.

Dean looked up to greet his brother, gave Sam a quick returned smile but then his eyes went to the interior of John’s cabin, a sweeping gesture of his hand following. “Been a while huh? It’s just like I remembered it….” Dean glanced up at Sam again. “I was thinking we’d let Benny and Christina have this cabin, since….” Dean made an awkward gesture with his hand, “And you can take the Padre Murphy’s old cabin and….”

“Dean.” Sam said it gently and stepped into the room more. “Cabin assignments aren’t important right now…. And even so, you should have Dad’s bunk.…. When Cas finally wakes up….”

Dean held out one hand to stop Sam and shook his head. It had been a week since the Impala had been raised. When the crew had originally clamored for details on how it had happened, Dean at first had resisted. Instead he had barked that he didn’t have time for any more nonsense and had gotten to work inspecting every inch of the Impala to see what damage there was to her. When he had found her in excellent condition, he had personally broken down his forge on the island and transferred it to the hold of the ship. Then he had buried himself in the task of stripping the Cerberus of every last useful nail, plank, rope and pulley. Meanwhile the rest of the crew had packed up the encampment on the island and went to the task of filling her stores.

Through it all, Castiel had remained unconscious. He laid now down in one of the Impala’s brigs, the one meant to hold werewolves and other monsters, surrounded by wards and sigils like some villainous and strange sleeping beauty. The crew’s mistrust in the former Commander had deepened when they had found he had somehow removed the warded manacles. In spite of Dean’s insistence that Castiel had saved he and Sam’s lives, the crew voted to keep Castiel held there until he woke.

“Cas may never….” Dean wiped a hand over his face again, and looked away from Sam. “Look we need to sort out the cabin arrangements…. We can’t keep sleepin’ up in the hammocks on deck. And we need to call a crew meeting an’ figure out where we should go next. N’Awlins is out and we need to go through Dad’s chests and stuff to find the musket.”

Sam let out a half frustrated breath and planted his hands on his hips. “Fine. I’m taking Father Murphy’s bunk. Benny and Christina can have Deacon’s old cabin… I’ll give our old berths to Jo and Charley. The rest of the crew can sort out the remaining cabins. But you’re taking Dad’s cabin and that is that.”

And then Sam was gone leaving Dean alone with his thoughts, his fears, his apprehensions and the reminders of his father’s past.

 

 

 

 

The midday sky was warm and clear, the easterly breeze coming over the deck refreshing and sweet. The Impala was set, ready to get underway. Her sails were trimmed at the moment, her anchors seated in the waters below, but licked rhythmically at her sides as if they sensed she was eager to be set free and cut through the sea.

Her crew felt her itch keenly and even as they had gathered together on the quarter deck to discuss their next move, they all fidgeted and moved as if ready to jump at the order to bring the ship to full sail.

Dean was as still and unmoving as an empty lighthouse on a cliff, and at the moment every eye from his crew was trained on him to guide them. Waiting for him to be their beacon that would light their way and bring them across the seas to their next task.

Dean faced out across the back of the ship, his eyes on the bright and beautiful sea. Yet his arms were held folded over his chest, protective and closed off. His countenance was dark in contrast to the sunny day. When Sam cleared his throat pointedly, Dean turned and looked to his crew. He rolled his shoulder once and the darkness over him cleared.

“We’ve been through much these last turns of the moon. Arrested, nearly hung…. Stolen a ship…. Attacked by sea monster, ship wrecked….” Dean took in a breath, “And before all this, many of you have seen things and done things that would have most sailors disbelieving and calling you daft.” Dean went around the group, one by one meeting their eyes with a careful look.

“You’ve asked me how the Impala came to be free. I ask you now to listen and believe, for what I am about to share with you…” Dean dropped his arms to his sides and implored them with his eyes, “I beg of you to hear me and know I am not a liar or a madman.”

In careful detail, allowing for questions when they arose, Dean recounted how he had been clinging to the side of the trench, his suit shredded, and his life near ended. He told them how Castiel swam to him, told them how he had thought Castiel had died during his efforts to save Dean. Then he told them of Castiel’s transformation, of defeating the Leviathan, and breaking the chains on the Impala.

For a good many moments after he was done, the crew was silent. Each of them was taking in the tale, some with skeptical expressions, and some with abject awe.

Benny was the first to speak, a small frown on his face, “An angel? Forgive me brutha but, there ain’t no such thing. Wouldn’t we have run across one before now?”

“Not necessarily…” Sam stepped forward then, a small dimpled smile on his face, “Actually there are a lot of creatures, beings, monsters that we have yet to encounter but they are documented in my Father’s books and lore. He has extensive records in there, things I’ve never seen even in Bobby and Ellen’s collections.”

“Castiel did shirk those manacles…. And I know of nothing else we’ve met that could get those things off.” Jo nodded in agreement with Sam. “No witch, no demon, nothing.”

“There is one more thing.” Dean took a breath and steadied himself. Then he undid the buttons on his shirt, eventually tugging it off himself so as to bare his upper arm and shoulder to them. There on his skin was a handprint, pink and slightly raised as if it had been a burn or a brand. “This’ where Cas was holding on to me, after he….changed.”

His crew gathered closer, inspecting the strange mark. Sam ran two fingers over it, deep curiosity covering his face.

When they were done looking, Dean pulled his shirt back on properly. “It hurts not, though there is the ghost of a tingle that catches me now and then.”

“I’m pleased to hear that it does not hurt Dean.”

In surprise at the voice behind them, the crew and the Winchesters all turned at once to where it had come from.

Castiel was abruptly standing on the other side of the quarterdeck from the crew.

He was turned out immaculately in his full commander’s uniform, shaven and clean, his lost hat even sat replaced on his head. He stood stiff and regimented, arms placed formally behind his back, his officer’s sword at his side. In contrast however, his face was kind as he looked at the crew with fondness.

“Cas?!” Dean swallowed hard when he saw Castiel. With his face a riot of different emotions, Dean strode towards Castiel only to halt halfway across the quarterdeck. “What the in the nine hells?!”

“Forgive me, the holding area below deck is not warded to hold in….” Castiel looked uncomfortable a moment as he nodded looking down at himself. “If you wish me to return there I shall.”

“No Cas, it’s fine… we’re happy to see you up and about….” Sam came to stand alongside Dean, a look of genuine relief on his face.

Behind the brothers, the rest of the crew gave various reactions and not all of them were so at ease as Sam.

Castiel nodded again and the pressed his lips together, the awkwardness of his stance growing. “You may not feel the same when you hear what I have to say.”

“Cas?” Dean’s entire body language was a picture of a man conflicted. It was obvious he wanted to go to Castiel, touch the man, bring him into an embrace. Dean’s hands twitched at his sides. But at the same time he read the way Castiel carried himself, the contrite expression on the other man’s face, the downturn of his eyes and he knew that whatever Castiel had to say, he was not going to like it.

Castiel lifted his head and addressed them all. “Let me start at the beginning. Let me tell you everything….”

 

 

 

 

A breeze ruffled around the crew, fluttering shirtsleeves and teasing at stray strands of hair. But Castiel remained as if untouched, his clothing staying neat and tidy. He spoke with an even voice, his eyes steady and meeting each of the crew’s gaze.

“I am an Angel of the Lord, sent here on a mission to aid and protect the Righteous Man.” Castiel looked to Sam and Dean now, “It was believed that man was John Winchester. I, along with two members of my garrison, Samandriel and Inias, came and found John Winchester as he was returning from the South China seas. We proved to him what we were, who we were, and that our mission was to help him stop the demon Azazel who was posing as Captain Grigori Brown.”

“Wait… if you were sent to protect John, how’s it happen that you were on the ship, on the Seraph, yet he was still hung?” Victor spoke up, his eyes narrowed and questioning.

“John Winchester had located Captain Brown, Azazel, on the Seraph as you already know. Myself and the other angels meant to fly to the ship and smite him immediately but John demanded we hold off. He said he had to discover who Azazel’s spies were, if anyone human was helping Azazel, and he needed other information about the demon’s plans before Azazel be annihilated.” Castiel stated plainly.

“What was this otha’ information that was so important?” Benny rubbed his fingers along his beard as he spoke.

“John Winchester believed that Azazel was sacrificing all these women with a sinister purpose. That they were more than just the sinister murders they appeared to be. That ending these women’s lives was a means to some end game.” Castiel paused a moment, and then a flicker of discomfort passed behind his eyes. “John believed that the demon was working to open a gate of hell… Not just any gate, but The Gate. A primary one that would allow all of hell to flood here onto the Earth unchecked.”

The crew remained quiet, stunned. Castiel continued. “John asked that we accompany him in disguise, posing as crew on the Seraph, to be his backup when he made his way to interrogate Captain Brown before killing him.”

Dean and Sam went stiff, and Dean’s jaw jumped tight and angry. For years the brothers had searched and hunted and sought after the people responsible for John’s death. To hear all this now flamed Dean’s ire deeply. “And you failed. You failed because they hung my father!! Why didn’t you save him Cas?!” Dean stepped closer to Castiel, his fists tight now, his body coiled. “What happened on that ship you son-of-a-bitch?!!”

Castiel’s eyes went wide and he took a step back, but there was no fear on his face. “John insisted that we suppress our grace, our angelic natures. He argued that we had to hide that we were angels. He feared Azazel would sense us and flee before John could get to him. John was driven and bound to get the information he was desperately seeking.” Castiel let his hands fall to his sides, fingers and hands looking weak now. “John took us to see Missouri Mosley. She cast on us a ward, a transformation. Implanted memories in our heads, whole faux personas into our minds so Azazel would not detect us and so he would think us normal members of the Royal Navy. She locked down our Grace and made us forget what we were.”

Castiel looked specifically at Dean now, his eyes sad. “This spell was crafted with a release, a failsafe. It was a small disc of thin wood carved with an Enochian symbol. All John need do was break it as he uttered that word to remove the warding. Then I and the other two would be freed of the ward. Our memories would return and we would be angelic once again, have our powers and our grace once more.”

“So what happened, why weren’t you freed?” Sam spoke, his voice cast with a tight rawness that was echoed in his eyes.

Castiel looked confused, lost and unhappy. “I…. don’t know. I don’t know why John didn’t free us when he needed us to save him. He had the disc of wood. We were present at the hanging…” Castiel looked queasy. “All he had to do was break the seal on the spell and we would have rescued him! Why he did not…… I do not know why he didn’t do it. That part of this tale died with him.”

“Maybe this is why Missouri kept trying to connect with you Cas, she must have been trying to break the hold she had placed on you since John didn’t.” Jo leaned against the railing, a thoughtful look in her eyes.

Sam nodded to Jo, blinking his eyes a few times to clear them, relaxing his hands out of their fists, “That sounds very plausible Jo.” His face still held his pain and sadness at everything Castiel was telling them.

Dean’s anger however was not dissuaded by any of this. If anything, it burned hotter. His jaw ground hard again as the green of his eyes went acidic. “Inias and Samandriel were obviously about to free themselves and knacker off to who knows where! Why didn’t they save my Dad?! You were able to break out of it on your own to bring the Impala up! I thought you said you were here to save and protect the Righteous Man?! Why didn’t you break on the Seraph to save my Dad?! Huh Cas?! You had no trouble busting your powers out in that trench! How is it that you couldn’t do that for Dad when he needed you?!?!”

“Because John Winchester wasn’t the Righteous Man.” Charlie said soft and sudden, meeting Castiel’s eyes with her own wide ones before she came to Dean’s side. “Dean…. Cas wasn’t really sent here for John.” She put a hand on Dean’s arm, pulling gently so he would look at her. “Castiel was sent here to protect you. You’re the Righteous Man. That’s why he could break it in the trench and not on the Seraph.”

Stunned, Dean nearly jumped back from Charlie’s touch. His anger shifted into outright denial and disbelief, and he shook his head back and forth in small short shakes. “That’s ridiculous.”

Sam reached out to steady Dean with a touch to his shoulder, but Sam’s eyes went to Castiel’s. “Dad must have known. That’s why he didn’t break the ward.”

“We do not know this for certain, I have no way of knowing what John learned in his last hours on the Seraph or what colored his decision to keep us hidden.” Castiel’s shoulders drooped slightly. “But you must know I am filled with anguish that John was killed, that I did not save his life and return him to you whole and unharmed fills me with shame and sorrow. I feel as if somehow everything I was meant to do here on Earth has gone horribly wrong. Please Sam….please… Dean…” Castiel’s eyes were pained, “You must believe me, I went to the Seraph with full intent to insure John Winchester’s success and safety.”

Sam stepped away from Dean and came to stand in front of Castiel. He placed his hand on Castiel’s shoulder now, much like he had just done with Dean. “I do believe you Cas. But you’ll need to give Dean and I some time to deal with this. We’ve been searching for answers for so long and to learn now that Dad could have been spared…. It cuts deeply.”

“Of course Sam.” Castiel nodded, lowered his gaze and stepped back yet again. He turned as if to remove himself and go back down to the brig.

“Whoa hold up there Chief.” Benny moved towards Castiel, his hands up slightly, “I think we still got a whole buncha questions that need answers before anyone takes a walk here.”

“Let’s start with sinking the Impala. And those giant chains under the waters. And the guardian beast, the Leviathan that attacked us.” Tamara’s voice was clipped, her eyes sharp. “Did Azazel do that, did that demon set that monster on us?”

Castiel turned, his eyes still downcast. “It was not Azazel’s doing.”

“Then whose?” Tamara demanded, her hand was twisting against the pommel of the sword at her hip.

Castiel lifted his head and looked at Tamara. “Mine.”

 

 

 

 

Chaos broke out over the quarterdeck.

The crew descended on Castiel with raised voices, brandished fists and half drawn swords. The former Commander, the Angel, made several careful retreating steps finally bumping against the rail edge of the quarterdeck. Castiel’s hands were raised in supplication as Sam stepped between the irate crew and the angel. Sam used his formidable frame, drawing to his full height with his arms outstretched. The younger Winchester glared down the crew forcing them to stand down.

“Be calm!” Sam ordered, “I will have Castiel speak and then if needed we will give him the lash! But a mob we are not! Stand down and listen.” Sam gave one last warning look to everyone and then looked back to Castiel with steely eyes. “Tell me Castiel, was your intent to harm this crew?!”

Castiel shook his head slightly, his face pinched with concern and confusion. “Of course not. Please… I will finish retelling what had transpired with John Winchester.”

Sam made a gesture for Castiel to be quick about it.

Castiel continued. “As I have said, John did not want Azazel to discover we were Angels. He also did not want Azazel to find the weapon he had brought back from China or the Impala itself either. Before we left to visit Missouri and before our rendezvous with the Seraph, John ordered Samandriel, Inias and myself to hide the Impala and it’s cargo.”

“You sunk it?” Kevin looked appalled. “That still seems excessive.”

“Can you think of a better way to hide a ship as unique and easily identified as the Impala from one of Hell’s most tenacious and resourceful generals?” Castiel’s patience was starting to wear out. He understood they were upset learning now of everything, but he was annoyed that the crew did not trust him. “If we had dry-docked her, John was certain Azazel would find it. If we had beached her, then any ship could have come across her and taken her as their own. And you saw that Tortuga and Singer’s cove was not safe. Had the Royal Navy seized her they would have striped her for parts or burned her into ash.”

Castiel lifted his chin and held himself once more like a regimented Commander. “Per John Winchester’s orders, we set the Impala on the trench floor, set protections on her to keep her safe. We placed chains around her that would harrow anyone attempting to raise her, human or demon. The Leviathan we did not court, but the beast must have been drawn to the ward’s energies and taken up residence.” He calmed his voice again but his regimented tone remained, “In all ways myself and my garrison have tried our best to be true to what John Winchester asked of us.”

Castiel lowered his head and then in a quiet voice added, “I am deeply sorry that our actions failed and brought so much strife to all of you. I will endeavor to redeem myself to you in every way I am able.”

The air fell silent around the quarterdeck. No sound broke the quiet beyond the waves and the sounds coming from the ship herself as she creaked and stretched on the sea.

Dean had turned away from Castiel, his brother and his crew, his face and thoughts hidden. Finally after a time he turned around and looked at Sam. A promise that they would discuss all this later in private was shared in a look between the brothers before Dean stepped into the middle of his crewmates.

“Any further questions?” Dean croaked out, his voice sounding rough. When no more questions came Dean continued, “Okay then. In light of all this, I vote we head to Nassau, see if we can contact Bobby and Ellen from there. We need to find out what Azazel is doing now and regroup. What say the rest of you?”

“I’m for it.” Jo nosed her face up as Charlie, Garth, Tamara and Christina also nodded in agreement.

“What of Castiel?” Victor looked over at the angel with caution.

“Sam and I will deal with him.” Dean said darkly.

Victor nodded with an expression that said this was good enough, and Benny followed with his agreement as well.

Kevin stepped forward then, eyeing Sam and then looking at Dean, “And what of me?”

Dean frowned. “What of you. You’re crew. Vote yes or give your reservations on why you would say nay.”

“Of I am now crew, I have a request….” Kevin drew his shoulders square. “I must get word to my mother, let her know I am safe and free of the East India Company and from Crowley. She needs to know the chest is safe as well.”

Dean looked to Sam and Sam nodded. Then Dean said, “Kevin we’ll see what we are able to do. Nassau is technically British, but its governor is corrupt. Pirates of all manner port there, and no doubt we can find allies and friends aplenty. But don’t hold sour if we are unable to send word to your mother while we are there. If the Royal Navy are in the area or if they have taken the island back for the King….”

“I understand.” Kevin nodded.

“Good.” Dean let his eyes sweep over the faces of his crew, his sea faring family, and he let their presence ease his pain. “Jo, you’re on look out this watch. I’ll take the helm. Victor you’re on the main deck. Everyone else get some sleep. Garth we’ll need a fit breakfast in the morn. We’ll need to work the tides quick tomorrow if we are to make it to Nassau before the turn of the moon.”

The crew scattered, each to their duty or to their bunks. Soon all that was left on the quarterdeck was Sam, Dean and Castiel.

Dean took in a deep breath and held himself in a defensive posture before turning to look at Castiel. The conflict inside him sang out loudly, expressed in how he held his body. His shoulders were ridged but his back was straight and firm. As he came around to face Castiel he kept his jaw held high making his eyes peer down his nose.

Dean opened and closed his fists several times. “Sam, I believe Castiel and I have things we need to discuss. Would you give us a few moments before escorting him back to the brig?”

Sam made a tip of his head in reply and then walked off the quarterdeck and down the steps to wait with Victor on the main deck.

“Keeping me in the brig is useless Dean, it is not warded to hold such as I am.” Castiel stated plainly, but gently.

“Well what do you want me to do Cas? Huh? I find out you’ve had this… secret power inside you all this time, locked down because Dad told you to keep it down? That you sunk the Impala to make my Dad happy? But somehow you couldn’t manage to save his life when he needed it?” Dean shook his head and walked in a slow circle.  


Castiel took a hesitant step towards Dean, his hands now at his sides again, fingers curved slightly. “Dean, how many more times do I need to…”

“As many times as I need Cas!” Dean yelled, his face coming up hard as his eyes met the angel’s. “We shared a bed, you and I. That means something. I shared more of myself with you than I have anyone else! And you did not once think to tell me any of this? You meant at first to take the Seraph from me when we were at Bobby’s! Was that your real nature coming through? Or was the man moaning my name as we twined our bare legs together in the hot spring the real you?? Do you even know?!?”

“Dean, please…. I didn’t remember. I couldn’t tell you because I didn’t…” Castiel made another step in Dean’s direction, lifting his hands as if to touch and soothe Dean. Castiel’s eyes were warm, soft and pleading. “Dean, you must know how I felt about you, since Port Royal. How I would do anything for you. I would never keep any of this from you intentionally! You must know how much I lov….”

“NO.” Dean flinched, overwhelmed with the sincerity and depth of what he saw in Castiel’s eyes now. He held up his hands and backed away. He spoke in a small hard voice as he turned for the steps down off the quarterdeck. “No Cas… I just…. I can’t. Not….now.”

Dean darted down the steps and in long swift strides he covered the distance on the main deck to be alone.

Castiel drew back his hands, lowered his head and waited for Sam to take him to the brig.

 

(to be continued)


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art Chapter!
> 
> (made by me)

     

 Castiel and Dean

 

 

     

Sam and Charlie

 

      

Sam and Gabriel

 

 

(story to be continued in next chapter)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've posted a diagram at the bottom of this chapter so you can see the basic parts of the Impala,   
> the Cerberus and the Seraph, as well as the other ships throughout this fic.

 

 

 

The sun set, and the Impala cradled her crew to sleep under a clear starry sky. Victor spent the hours paced the main deck, quiet in his footfalls with his wife and family on his mind. Even with the stillness and the calm, Jo kept vigilant eyes on the horizon and the water, sky glass cradled secure in her grip.

Dean however, couldn’t, or wouldn’t relax. He tinkered with the bottom rigging pulleys on the main mast. He fidgeted with the wheel, greasing its couplings up. He wiped down the rails on the quarterdeck even though they were already spotless from earlier in the day when Benny cleaned them. He did anything he could think of just so he would keep moving and not thing.

Inevitably the night wore on and he found less and less to keep his hands busy. When he found himself on the ladder steps down into the lower part of the hold near where Castiel was in the brig, he had to sit on those steps and draw in a deep breath.

Dean rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. In the silence of the night, in the quiet of the ship’s hold, Dean let loose the war of thoughts and emotions that had been broiling inside his head. His let himself deal with the fact that his father, John Winchester, had sunk their beloved ship and that he had ordered three angels around to the point that those angels were powerless to help when they were needed most. Dean mulled over everything Castiel had told him, and some of Dean’s anger and ire drained out of him. He still wasn’t accepting of this Righteous Man nonsense, that Castiel couldn’t break the spell to save his Dad yet somehow had broken it to save Dean. And if it didn’t have anything to do with that, Dean’s brain niggled at him with other ideas of what could have broken Missouri’s spell on the angel, when their near deaths at the gallows hadn’t even done it.

That quiet inner voice that had always steered Dean in the right direction was sliding ideas and words like “You and Cas hadn’t even begun to explore this thing between you when you were caught and taken to Port Royal….” and “It wasn’t until after the gallows that you and Cas became so close…” and “Castiel saved you because he loved you.”

Dean ended those thoughts quickly. That was the past. On the island they had become very close, and Cas had watched over him, taken care of him. And maybe yes, Dean had begun to start to entertain the notion that maybe he and Cas were….

But no, that was before Castiel unlocked his grace. Before he returned to the angelic. Dean couldn’t hope now to rekindle his connection with Castiel, could he? Would not the angel leave and return to heaven when all was done? How could a being like Castiel possibly consider staying here for someone like Dean? What he and Castiel had before, surely it was gone now.

Dean let out a heavy sigh and lifted his head. Over to his left, soft peach colored light had started to creep in from one of the gun port hatches. The sun was rising.

Dean stood and shook himself a bit, then climbed back up onto the main deck.

It was time to wake his crew and be on their way.

 

 

 

 

Garth had served up a stout breakfast, and the crew went about getting the Impala underway with gusto after they had eaten. The crew’s spirits were up, relieved to be finally heading out to sea in their beloved ship.

Sam and Dean had closed themselves up in the library once the ship was in full sail and cruising at her top speed. The brothers remained in there for several hours conversing and keeping their own private council. The crew gave them space and left them be, knowing they were discussing everything that had happened to John.

Finally just before the mid day meal, the brothers emerged looking more than just optimistic and on firmer temperament. They looked focused and driven.

Dean strode out onto the deck, calling loud and confident for reports from each crewman, and for a reading of their current location and heading. When that was done he called Charlie to his side. He took her back into the library to unlock and open the remaining chests and cabinets Sam was unable to access.

Sam, however, made his way down to the brig area to speak with Castiel.

He found Castiel standing in the center of the square cage that was their supernatural holding pen and brig. The four sides were iron bars wrought with warding sigils. The ceiling was a hammered thin iron plate that was fixed to the wood and engraved with a large devil’s trap. The floor was similar, only the devils trap was inlaid with heavier metal. This cage had held werewolves, vampires, witches and demons well.

When Sam approached the cell door, Castiel looked up. Cas held his hat behind his back, and he stood simply with his feet held at an even space. Sam reached for the door, and found it open and unlocked. With an amused smile, Sam opened it wide.

“Did you unlock it?” Sam leaned casually against the door frame.

“Garth did this morning.” Castiel met Sam’s eyes. “He and Tamara came to check on me and offer me a morning meal.”

Sam nodded. “Did you eat? You must have been hungry, and it’s difficult to sleep in here…”

Castiel shook his head and let his eyes roam around the interior of the cage. “I do not require rest or nourishment. My grace sustains me.”

Sam frowned slightly at that.

“I assure you Sam, you do not need to be concerned for my well being now.” Castiel lifted his head to meet Sam’s eyes once again.

Sam stood straighter, “And what if I want to be concerned? What if Dean wants to be concerned? What if….” Sam stopped himself, and bit his lips lightly. As if he would say more but felt it better not to speak for his brother right now.

Castiel tilted his head, confusion on his face with his eyes narrowed slightly.

Sam shook his head and stepped away from the cage door leaving it open. “I think the crew is more at ease now with… everything. A decent night’s sleep in a good bunk does wonders. You are free to come topside…. if you’re ready?”

Castiel nodded and placed his hat upon his head. The he fell into step behind Sam as Sam returned to the main deck. As they came up, Sam glanced up to the sky.

The morning had been bright and beautiful with a favorable wind. Now there was a darkness creeping close, coming from the western horizon. The sea was becoming a bit choppier, but it was nothing like the storm that had crashed the Cerberus.

The crew was moving about, taking normal precaution for a small thunderstorm. Sam joined them as Castiel walked slowly to the rail of the main deck, his eyes squinted into hard lines as he scanned the oncoming storm. As he looked there, the wind picked up and Castiel’s eyes caught shapes moving toward them over the waves. He opened his mouth to call out, but above him Tamara’s voice rang out from the crows nest before he could utter a word.

“SAILS!”

At that call both brothers turned to look towards the storm as well. Sam had his smaller spyglass up to view, then he passed it quickly to Dean.

Three ships approached, all flying the colors of the East India Company.

“Crowley.” Dean growled and then sang out, “PREP CANON’S!”

The crew leapt into a fury of activity. Sam dashed to the wheel and took it from Benny. Dean ran to join Victor and Garth who hurried down to the canon’s with Benny, Kevin and Jo right behind. Tamara was heading down from the crows nest to join Charlie and Christina in trimming up some of the sails, to keep them from fighting against any maneuvering Sam required during the encounter with Crowley’s ships.

Castiel immediately was at Charlie’s side in help. With his angelic strength and agility they were able to trim and secure the sails in half the time expected. And it was needed, as the Impala was running on a smaller than usual crew. Even working with the sails and the rigging, Castiel kept checking on the progress of the three ships and the storms as they drew closer.

Something occurred to Castiel when the sails were secured, and he went to Sam’s side. “Crowley’s ships…. They are trying to outrun the storm. They aren’t in pursuit of us.” Castiel pointed out.

The three ships were close now, close enough that they easily saw the Impala where she waited. But the other ships weren’t aiming to meet with the Impala. They were indeed veering off slightly as they raced to keep ahead of the storm.

Sam gripped the wheel and turned it hard. He began to bring the Impala around to keep her starboard guns tracked on Crowley’s ships. “Tell Dean!”

Castiel ran toward the nearest steps leading down to the gun deck, then stopped. He looked at Crowley’s ships and frowned. Then he looked back at Sam and yelled, “I will return! Fear not!” The sound of rustling cloth and feathers was heard in the air, and then suddenly Castiel simply wasn’t there any more. He had vanished.

“CAS!!” Sam hollered out, shocked. Sam scanned the deck for the angel and then rolled his eyes. A mix of frustration and confusion was on his face now.

Unknown to Sam, Castiel had reappeared on the deck of Crowley’s main ship, high up at the back of the poop deck. He surveyed the East India Company’s crew as they worked the sails at full for speed, and on course to steer around the Impala. The other ships in the group were doing the same. The crew was so busy they didn’t notice Castiel.

So Castiel looked back at the storm coming up behind them.

And froze.

A fourth ship plowed the waters hard and fast in pursuit, and with it came the dark and fitful storm. As if the storm had been caught and tethered to the ship, and was dragged behind it. The ship’s sails were a dark dusky charcoal, and her hull was ashen grey. It was massive, a Spanish Man of War with at least 30 guns. Castiel could see the forward guns aiming and at the ready to tear into the backs of the East India Company ships.

Castiel could also see the approaching ship’s crew. To a man, they were all possessed by demons. Castiel’s angelic eyes could see their true selves under the flesh of the people they rode in.

“What in the bloody blue blazes are you doing on my ship?!?!” An indignant voice with a British accent rang out behind Castiel.

Castiel turned to see Crowley himself, dressed in an Admiral’s hat and garb, standing half ready to draw his saber as he looked at Castiel.

Then Crowley spat out, “Lilith’s knickers! You’re an angel!”

“And you’re a demon….?” Castiel looked surprised, seeing Crowley’s true self inside the human vessel.

“I bloody well know what I am you feathery celestial imbecile! Now what are you doing on my fucking ship?!?” Crowley barked.

“Why are you being chased down by your own kind?” Castiel frowned ignoring Crowley’s questioning. Castiel looked next at the crews of the East India Company ships. “Your crews are human men…” Castiel mused and then looked back to the demonic ship that was now gaining on them.

“That’s none of your business!! Now answer my question!!” Crowley roared. His face was pinched with the fury of a man used to getting his way. A man who at the moment was very much not having things go satisfactorily in his favor.

Castiel calmly turned back to Crowley and directed him to look at the Impala, “Order your ships to fall into formation with the Impala. With our four ships united we stand a chance against the oncoming demon ship. Mind the Man of War’s sides, her extensive canon load is already brought to bear.”

When Crowley stood there just growling, Castiel took a menacing step towards the demon-merchant lord. He held his jaw stiff as he said, “The only way you’ll survive this is if you join with the Impala and battle that demon ship. Otherwise that fully manned warship will send you and all three of your ships down as gifts to the depths of the ocean.”

 

 

 

 

Castiel flickered back to the Impala and strode up to Sam. He relayed all the information he had learned from being on Crowley’s ship in short clipped terms to Sam, then Castiel flew down to appear on the gun deck. For Sam’s part, he managed not to gape wide at Castiel’s comings and goings, in spite of how his mind raced to piece together what he was seeing and hearing.

As Castiel informed Dean and the crew below, Sam pulled all his weight and muscle into turning the Impala so her broadside canons were held trained on the grey and black demon Man of War.

The East India Company ships were doing their best to drop their sails and lean into hard enough turns to bring them on the other side of the Impala. They pushed hard to come around to get their canons aimed on the Man of War.

The demon ship did not wait, and it opened fire with its forward canons on the last of the East India ships, Crowley’s ship. The canon fire from the Man of War ripped into Crowley’s craft with an ear splitting crack. Wood and debris shattered into the air with smoke and fire as Crowley’s frigate lurched with the impact.

Dean’s voice rang out hard right then with his command, and eight of the Impala’s gun deck canons fired at once. Her canons were dead center to the Man of War’s port side and the Impala’s shots hit true. A half second later two of the canons on the Impala’s wheel deck followed, backing up the first volley with their heaviest ammo. The combined assault punched massive holes into the sides of the Man of War, broke apart a half of their gun deck and caused many of demon’s canons to explode or be torn from their moorings.

The first of the East India Company’s ships to come around following the Impala and was opening fire with her side guns now. The demon’s Man of War suffered for it when those shots shattered the demon ship’s mizzenmast and the huge ship listed a bit to her portside before righting herself. As big as she was, she was not nimble, and she was having difficulty turning in as tight a circle as the other smaller ships.

“CAS!!” Sam shouted into the wind. He was pleased a heartbeat later when his expectation of Castiel suddenly appearing at his elbow in a whoosh of air was met with success. “We need to board that demon ship….” Sam continued to pull hard on the wheel still, on course to keep the Impala into completing her turn to bring her up behind the back of the Man of War.

Castiel merely nodded and vanished once more. Seconds later the Impala began to drag to a halt in the water as all her anchors plunged into the sea and sank. It gave enough resistance that the Impala was able to slow to a near stop. This left the Impala tucked neatly behind the back of the Man of War just like Sam wanted.

The crew of the Impala didn’t hesitate, and no cheering was given for their successful hits or Sam cleverness. Instead Dean was running like one of the Furies himself as he raced up to the forecastle of the Impala. He had two of his swords tucked at his sides, and a bandolier of loaded guns across his chest. When he reached the foremast, he grabbed one of the large boarding hooks made of iron that were kept there. It was secured with a long thick rope that unwrapped from its place anchored on the front of the ship as Dean ran. He leapt off the forecastle down to the bowsprit and kept going, his goal was the back end of the Man of War.

Sam was hastily tying off the wheel while Tamara, Jo, Benny, Charlie and Victor raced fully armed to follow Dean, meaning to board the other ship right behind their captain. Garth, Kevin and Christina took up position behind them to hold the forecastle if any demons attempted to board the Impala.

The second of Crowley’s ships was now fully around the Impala and making a run at strafing the other side of the Man of War. The second ship’s canon lobby obliterated a quarter of the Man of War’s gun deck on that side, but as she went past, the Man of War was able to make good with her remaining guns. They rang out an attack and hit the second ship barely a second later.

The damage to the smaller ship was devastating. Her main mast tumbled with a deafening sound into the sea, and her foremast followed. The main deck was shredded open, and there was a hole near her rails that looked as if a giant shark had risen up out of the sea and chomped out a bite.

The first of Crowley’s ships, the one that had fired shortly after the Impala’s first barrage, had come around the second ship now to finish what her sister ship had started. They had earned enough time to reload their canons, and the second ship had protected them with her hull as they had moved into position. They opened fire on the Man of War, and with a resounding explosion reduced her forecastle and upper bow into collapsing in on itself.

Dean and his crew were only vaguely aware of this as they had come on board the other ship, adjusting their footing as needed. Dean had buried the boarding hook into the surface of the forecastle a mere breath after running one demon through with one of his blades. The crew of the Impala had clamored over the back of the ship, hoisting themselves over the high railing to land behind ten of the demons and take them by surprise. That group was dispatched easily.

The other fifteen demons on the quarterdeck just below were not as quickly taken and there were more demons waiting near the wheel and across the main deck.

Dean threw himself into the foray with fearless gusto. With one gun in his left hand and one scimitar in his right, he was in constant motion as he blocked, then attacked with practiced precision. Sam had joined him, outfitted in the same manner as Dean, and the two cut through the demon horde as the brothers fought back to back.

The crew followed in their wake. Benny breaking bones with his bare hands or severing limbs with his obsidian blade. Tamara dancing as Shiva would with a blade in each hand, so quick that no blood splatter soiled her garments. Jo whooping loud as she threw slugs with her musket and knives with her hand. Charlie taking a perch on the high point of the forecastle and thinning the demon ranks with her rifle, her aim careful and perfect. Victor moving quick around the part of the ship he could reach, sabotaging the ship further, fouling their wheel, and breaking the mizzenmast pulleys.

During the fight Dean would catch glimpses of Castiel as he made his own way through the battle. Castiel would appear and disappear, darting through the throng like a freakish ghost, his tan coat a stark contrast to the demons in their ashen uniforms. Castiel would plant his palm on a demon, and a bright white light would sear between Castiel’s hand and the demon’s flesh. And then they would be screaming, burning as if hot coals were lit up under their skins. Dean also saw glimpses of a bright silver blade that Castiel would twirl and bury into his foe with a flourish.

When the canons had silenced, the demon crew that had been on the gun deck surged up to the main deck. They flooded the space and began to overwhelm the Impala’s crew.

His face flecked with gore and blood, Sam looked to Crowley’s ships for backup thinking they might join the fight on the Man of War and be of help. But the East India Company ships made no move to board; instead their crews stayed on their ships, which sat surrounding the demon ship as if waiting for the final outcome of the battle.

Furious, Sam took his anger out on the demon’s surrounding him. He and Dean had been separated, so his back was now exposed more and vulnerable. But twice now Castiel had come from out of thin air to tear a demon away from Sam when Sam had been tangled and unable to counter an attack from behind. Sam finally cast aside his first sword, its handle too slick with blood and sweat to hold. He wiped his hand off on his shirt, drew his second sword and renewed his fight.

Castiel was a blur now, moving around the main deck so fast he could barely been seen. Demons would simply scream, burning out before they dropped to hit the deck beneath them. Charlie moved to a better vantage point, and had fallen into a rhythm: shoot, reload, repeat. Jo had a fierce grin etched into her face as she weaved, keeping low and using her smaller size to her advantage in the crush of demons. She wore a wild look in her eyes as she slaughtered everything in her path. Benny had been piled on and the demons had landed brutal punches to him, knocking him nearly senseless. Tamara had run them all through, slicing them off of Benny and then helping him to his feet before they both faced off against more demons.

Victor put a shot into the head of one demon, but broke his blade as it came up to block the sword of another. That demon skewered Victor at an angle along his side, the evil blade biting deep. Victor let out a groan and fell a step back. The demon pressed forward and speared Victor to the deck as he tumbled, snarling down into the man’s face.

Dean was there suddenly, shoving the demon off its footing with his booted foot and then firing his pistol into the demon’s face. The sanctified and sigil engraved pistol shot smacked into the demon’s skull and it slumped dead.

Dean stood over Victor, guarding him and fighting off demons until Castiel appeared beside them. With a touch the sword pinning Victor down fell free, and Victor scrambled to his feet whole and healed. Victor gasped with shock and awe, then slapped Castiel on the back in thanks and rejoined the fight.

Dean turned to thank Castiel, but when he saw how drawn and pale the angel was becoming, Dean’s heart squeezed in panic. This fight was wearing Castiel down somehow and Dean’s worry for his crewmate and former lover nearly sent him into a frenzy. Before Dean could say anything, Castiel was flying away, reappearing at Charlie’s side to toss a demon over board.

Finally, the battle began to shift to the Winchester’s side. The demons numbers thinned, and soon only a handful remained from the original 115 that had crewed the Man of War. The last demons dropped their weapons and then dropped to their knees. The crew of the Impala rounded them all up as Sam scored out a quick devils trap on the surface of the main deck with chalk from his pocket. The last demons were shoved into that, their hands tied secure.

Dean looked about over the carnage on the Man of War. Bodies and blood lay thick everywhere. The scent of burning flesh stung his nose and he grimaced.

Castiel staggered out from the officer’s quarters, each hand gripping tight to the shoulders of two women he had found in hiding. One was dressed in the finery of a well born lady, while the other was in the same grieves, pants and leather as the rest of the felled demons. Both women had thick raven hair and dark keen eyes. Castiel deposited them into the devils trap with the other demons, and then wiped his hands on his coat as if he had touched something foul.

The one dressed like the rest of the crew turned on Castiel the moment she was released. She gave him a wide purr of a smile. She said something Dean could not hear, and gave a low chuckle, while Castiel’s reaction was to stiffen his shoulders and narrow his eyes.

Several loud clacks sounded off on both sides of the main deck as the East India Company crews now boarded the Man of War in full. They ran onto the main deck in formation and armed with muskets and rifles. Hundreds of them swarmed around the crew of the Impala and trained their guns on the pirates.

“Hold your fire, these men are human!” Castiel called out to the Impala’s crew.

“Indeed they are. And well paid, by me, for their service and loyalty.” Crowley strode across one of the gangplanks reaching from his ship to the Man of War and he stepped across the deck to survey the remains of the fight. He carried himself with the air of a conquering hero. He skimmed over the Impala’s crew with his eyes, impassive of all of them until he came to Dean and Castiel.

“Well well well… what have we here?” Crowley raised one brow. “The two burglars from my office in Port Royal.” He sniffed with distain and then addressed his lieutenant, “Tether the ships together, we’re taking command of all of them.” He flicked his hand at the trapped demons. “Put these miscreants into the special holding cells in the slave holds of our ships.”

Then he sneered at the Impala’s crew, “As for these pirates…” Crowley pivoted on his heel and smiled coldly at Dean “break them on the wheel and toss their sad bodies into our brigs.”

Crowley’s orders were followed not by the sounds of men following his orders, but instead by what sounded like small canon balls being dropped heavily to roll across the deck. Crowley looked down at his feet to find a metal sphere with odd smooth clockwork like locks embedded into their sides. The main deck was now littered with them. Puzzled, Crowley reached down to pick the thing up to investigate it. He held it in his hand and turned around to the direction of the back of the ship where it and the others like it had come from.

Kevin Tran stood at the rails of the quarterdeck, grinning down delightedly at Crowley.

“YOU!” Crowley ground his teeth with vehemence. “You belong to me, boy!”

Kevin’s grin grew feral. “Think again asshole!”

 

(to be continued)

 

 

 

As promised, a simple diagram to the Man of War (<http://pirates.hegewisch.net/mow.html>)


	25. Chapter 25

 

Click.

Click, click, click, click, click, click……

The spheres made a soft sound like something unlocking and then…..

Each began to pop open with hot bright flashes followed by thick smoke pouring out into the air. The smoke covered the Man of War’s main deck as more bursts of light flashed, loud whistles filled the air and trails of brightly colored sparks fizzed and zinged through the air.

Instantly the main deck was thrown into complete confusion and chaos as visibility went down to zero.

Castiel squinted and blinked, using his angelic sight, keeping a vigil to ensure none of the demons they had captured would escape. Around him however, the crew of the Impala had seized the chance at disabling and knocking unconscious a number of Crowley’s human crew. Either they had covered their eyes before the spheres exploded open, or they had trained themselves to fight blind. Castiel saw Sam leap into action the instant the smoke had begun to pour from the odd spheres, yanking the musket out of one man’s hands and then turning around at the hip to slam his elbow into another man’s head. Castiel tracked Dean moving in a tight circle near Crowley, taking down the vanguard around the merchant lord.

All around were sounds of scuffling, grunts and the sounds of bodies being slammed to the deck. Some of the East India Company men tried to retreat but couldn’t find their way out of the mayhem.

By the time the smoke dissipated, most of the East India Company men were on the deck unarmed and moaning in pain. The ones that were still standing with their weapons found themselves with an armed pirate crew ready to defend themselves further.

Dean had grabbed Crowley and was holding him fast with one arm around Crowley’s throat and his musket at Crowley’s skull. Crowley made a move to grapple Dean as best as he could to throw him off, but Sam was there immediately. Sam slapped manacles like the ones Castiel had worn onto Crowley’s wrist and locked them on. Crowley growled in reply but his posture deflated.

“Tell your men to stand down!” Dean commanded.

Crowley reluctantly did. He was rewarded with Sam thrusting him into the devils trap with the other demons. Demons who spat and hissed at Crowley until Castiel raised his angel blade in warning for them to stand down.

Both Winchester brothers made note of this schism, and they traded a look with each other that said it was imperative that they look into that further as soon as possible.

Dean took in a deep breath and then as loud as his lungs let him stated, “This is what is going to happen…” He pointed at the East India Company men, “YOU are gonna to get on your ships, and you’re gonna to sail your sorry asses BACK to Port Royal. You tell them the WINCHESTER BROTHERS spared your LIVES this day.” Then Dean gave them a cold stare. “Look on your tomorrows as a gift.”

The East India Company men laid down their weapons, or got to their feet. Those that were unconscious were carried by their crewmates. They retreated to their ships, drew back their gangplanks and began to sail away from the Man of War and the Impala.

When they were out of range, Dean finally let out a heavy breath. He looked at Sam with a smile, “I didn’t think that would actually work.”

Sam merely smirked, “What now?”

Dean nodded, “Benny, you, Christina, Charlie and Victor get the Impala alongside this ship so we can transfer our prisoners. Tamara and Jo, let’s get all these East India weapons on the Impala and see what’s worth keeping. Garth, you and Kevin get below and start seeing what we can take off this ship….Oh and Kevin?…. One thing…..”

Kevin paused while the rest of the crew got moving. Dean picked up and tossed one of the now open and empty metal spheres to the young man. The insides were filled with small metal gears like a clock, and there was some kind of residue power covering part of a hollow pocket. It smelled much like canon or musket powder. “Kevin, did you make these contraptions?”

Kevin smirked, “With Charlie’s help. They’re just a little ingenuity from back home mixed with some trial and error.” Kevin playfully tossed the used sphere in the air and then caught it as it came back down. “What did you think we were doing the whole time we were on the island?” He gave Dean a cheeky grin and then he followed Garth into the ship’s hold.

Sam and Dean chuckled and traded a look. Sam was turning one of the opened spheres in his hands with curiosity. “I think we should all learn to make these Dean, and use them often.”

“First things first Sam,” Dean turned to the demons, their current prisoners, and planted his hands on his hips. “So. You lot…. This is how it’s gonna go for you. Those that can give me information will be moved to the Impala. Those that can’t….” Dean opened his hands as if to say there was no other option and he gave them all a humorless grin.

“Feed us to the fishes then eh?” The woman who had smiled and spoken to Castiel earlier had now turned her smile Dean’s way. “Make us walk the plank?” She curled the word plank over her lips, drawing it out. “Ohhh maybe he’ll keel haul us!” She giggled and crooked one eye brow up.

“Shut up you whore.” Crowley grumbled.

“We’ll have naught to do with you, salesman…” The word came out of the other woman’s mouth as if it were poison, and she cut a dark look Crowley’s way, “You are beneath us.” She looked away and her eyes landed on Sam. Seeing him, her demeanor softened, but she cast her eyes down before turning away.  
Dean grit his teeth but kept his no nonsense smile tacked in place. “Maybe I should just salt and burn the lot of you right here and right now.”

“You wouldn’t…” Crowley looked at Dean sidelong, clearly annoyed with that suggestion.

“Dean,” Castiel stepped closer, but still left a considerable space between himself and the pirate Captain. “You and Sam can see to the necessary preparations of taking what you require from this ship and making ready for the Impala to sail…. I can transport this rabble to the Impala and secure them. We shouldn’t linger here for long and we can question them as we sail.”

Dean glanced at Castiel and took a moment to look into the angel’s eyes. “Yea, sure. Okay Cas.” He instinctively made to touch Castiel on the shoulder. He caught himself and instead busied his hands with sheathing his scimitar, “Let Sam or I know when you’re done.”

With that Dean and Sam walked off to assist elsewhere, while Castiel turned to the demon group.

Castiel squared his shoulders, lifted his chin up and flipped his angel sword in his hand. Then he got to work.

 

 

 

 

By the time the sun had set, the Impala was well on its way over the waters, leaving the mangled Man of War abandoned on the sea. The storm that had been coming had evaporated during the battle, but clouds still covered the view of the stars and made the horizon burn orange like fire.

The Impala’s crew had taken on extra canons, a considerable amount of all types of ammunition, as well as more swords and other weapons. They had found 12 small chests full of gems and pearls, three large chests filled with Spanish gold, and two chests that were locked and warded. They had also ransacked the Man of War’s map room, and Captain’s chambers that had been occupied apparently by the demon in the female vessel wearing the fine dress. Sam and Dean had found ledgers, manifests, maps, charts and a great deal of other documentation.

The brothers had it all spread out on one of the larger tables in John’s former library and workroom, what Dean was now calling their ‘War Room’. Sam had lit extra lamps with the coming dark, and their evening meal sat ignored on a small table nearby.

Sam was currently seated with one hip on the table itself in fresh clothing, with one foot on one of the chairs. He had stripped off his boots and socks, occasionally wiggling his toes in the cool air of the room. His hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, and he had a slight frown on his face. He was reading intently over one of the logs they had taken from the Man of War.

Dean was standing beside the table, the demon ship’s maps and charts laid out before him along with his sextant and his own personal navigational notebooks. Like Sam, he had cleaned up once they were done on the Man of War. Dean was now in a simple white shirt that was undone to his sternum and relaxed cotton trousers. He flexed his fingers against the map paper, lost in thought.

“So get this…” Sam broke the silence, glanced at his brother once before looking back to the information in front of him. “The Man of War was the ‘Nuestra Señora del Buen Fin’ and the demon’s took it a league from Ide Mugeres, possessing the entire crew including several passengers.” Sam paused and frowned more, “The Captain’s daughter had died earlier that morning from consumption, and the ship had dropped anchor to morn her passing and hold mass. Evidently the demons took them while they were all on deck in prayer.”

Sam looked at his brother, distraught. “Dean, this was….. I’ve never heard of anything like this before.”

Dean looked at his brother but didn’t raise his head, “What else does it say?”

Sam went back to reading the page in front of him, “They took the ship…. The demon’s commander took body of the Captain’s cousin that was onboard, and the daughter’s corpse was taken as a vessel….” Sam kept skimming and turning pages as he went. “They renamed the Man of War as ‘L’Ottavo Cerchio’….”

Dean stood up, walked around the table and came to stand beside Sam. He peered over at the open log in front of his brother. “That sounds like Italian.”

“It is.” Castiel was abruptly standing at one of the doors leading into the War Room. He rested one hand on the door latch and his whole body seemed to sag slightly. The hollowness under his eyes from the battle was still there. “May I come in?”

“Sure Cas,” Sam smiled, “How’s everything below?”

Castiel looked around the interior of the space, his eyes catching curiously on John Winchester’s apothecary cabinet and other things as he walked in. “The demons are secured. I had to build a new cage to hold Crowley, and another to hold the women.” Castiel came to a stop in front of the brothers, his arms handing loose by his sides. “They are different than the other demons. The women are a higher rank, and more powerful… Crowley is a Cross Roads Demon, and a prominent one at that.”

As Castiel had spoken, Dean began to fidget. First he put his hands on his hips, and then he folded and unfolded his arms over his chest.

Sam gave his brother a quick look, noting Dean’s disquiet, then looked back to Castiel. “Do you think we can get any information out of any of them?”

“Yes. Crowley seems eager to talk. He’s exceptionally uncomfortable around the other demons. Of the two women, Miss Masters, the demon’s commander, is very chatty. She’s just not entirely good at staying on the topic you want to discuss.” Castiel let out an exasperated sigh, “The other woman, who just claims to be named Ruby, is very reticent.”

“Sounds like they all three know something.” Sam handed the log to Dean, and then placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “We’ll question them in the morn, after a decent night’s sleep.”

Dean looked up from the log and met Castiel’s eyes. “L’Ottavo Cerchio, what does that mean?”

Castiel brought his eyes over to look directly at Dean, and hesitated when he saw the weary worn look in his Captain’s eyes. It made something deep inside him twist and pull, and it caught him off guard. “It means ‘The Eighth Circle.”

“The Eighth Circle? I wonder what significance it has….” Dean opened the logbook and looked into its pages. The book was filled with the tight small handwriting of someone adept at using a quill pen. “And I feel like I should know that some how….”

“Dean.” Sam tried to pull the log out of Dean’s hands and failed as Dean blocked Sam with his elbow.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow. Go get some sleep. I’ll pull watch tonight.” Sam opened his mouth to say more and then stopped. He could see the way the angel was looking at his brother, those wide blue eyes oddly longing and confused for a celestial warrior of the Lord. Sam simply resigned himself to staying out of it and quickly stepped away from them. He grabbed a plate of food from the smaller table, and then made his way to the main deck. Sam joined Benny on the night watch and left his brother and the angel to finally speak together alone.

 

 

 

 

Sam left and Castiel realized that he and Dean were alone finally.

Castiel didn’t move. His insides however had gone from jittering and twisting someplace in his gut to an all out pounding in his chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen. When he had renewed his connection to his grace, the feelings he had for Dean should have subsided. They should have calmed and quieted, slipping into the background of his being, overwhelmed by his ties to Heaven. Instead, the more he was around Dean, the more he saw the man or dwelled in his presence, the more those feelings welled up within him. Like a vine creeping and growing back after being pruned, wending its tendrils into every crack inside Castiel and taking root there. He resonated with his grace, but he positively vibrated with these sensations for Dean.

Castiel kept his eyes on Dean as Dean kept reading the log, Dean still searching for answers to all the new questions that had been brought to them. But Castiel’s mind was not on those things. Instead it had begun to flood with the memories of everything he had shared with Dean: nights held in Dean’s warm embrace when they stayed at Gabriel’s house near Port Royal, sleeping curled together in the hammock together on the island, waking next to Dean in their shared bunk on the Cerberus, their first kiss in that beautiful pool of water and the incredible high he had gotten when their lips had met.

Castiel felt his body thrumming with emotion at those memories and he let out a soft shuddering sigh.

At the sound if it, Dean looked up and was caught in Castiel’s gaze. The angel’s eyes were filled with so much affectivity that Dean dropped the logbook he had been holding and immediately moved to stand close in front of Castiel. Everything in those blue eyes stole Dean’s breath from his chest. He hovered his hands half in the air, half at his sides, his own eyes warm and soft.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice came out quiet, hopeful, and reverent.

“Dean, I….” Castiel stole in a breath, unneeded for an angel and yet Castiel couldn’t help it. The action made his lips quiver. Feeling Dean so near, the energy of it carried his body toward the other man like an ocean wave rolling into shore. It was forceful, natural, and difficult to resist.

“Look…I know…. Cas, we haven’t had time alone together, and I was mad, pissed at you for what Dad had done. Blamed you for his death, for the Impala being sunk.” Dean swallowed and shook his head, “I was so angry and…. we’ve had to live this life with no choice, do these things and I couldn’t….” Dean drew in a shaky breath of his own, “I know you did your best Cas. You always do your best…. You help, you… You saved Sam.” Dean licked his lips and leaned in, a mere inch or two between them now. “You saved me.”

“Dean…” Castiel said and the name came out like a plea echoing the ache that had taken over his whole being. He was washed over by this sensation, this fathomless warmth. It was eclipsing the songs he could hear in Heaven, and rising up inside him bright and beautiful to shine just for Dean alone. Was this what it was like to be cast down? Would his wings burn from him and his grace tear out? Was this what it was to become one of the fallen? Had his time hiding his grace and denying his angelic state broken him? Had living as a human and falling in love with a human….

Dean was kissing him.

Dean’s hands had come up to cradle Castiel’s head tenderly while Dean’s lips had met Castiel’s with so much adoration Castiel was stunned. When Castiel had not responded, Dean pulled back with worry in his eyes.

Castiel blinked, his blue eyes a mix of bright terror and sweet elation, “Dean….”

And then Castiel blurted out, “I’m in love with you.”

Dean gasped, breathy and wide eyed and then Castiel was gone.

One second Dean’s hands had been cupping Castiel’s head, his lips still warmed from the kiss and then there was nothing but the brief puff of air and the sound of rustling fabric and feathers. With the confession, the angel had vanished.

Dean gaped then let his hands fall to his sides heavily. He moved over to a chair and sat down in a flop. He looked down to realize his hands felt numb. His stomach was bucking oddly inside him, the usual panic he got when heavy emotions came out and demanded he deal with them. But on the other side of things, his chest felt light. So very light. That airy feeling was bobbing, bubbling and fluttering higher with each breath he took, and soon he felt a bit giddy.

He slumped back into the chair and a laugh tumbled out of his mouth. He thought himself crazed now as more laughter came tumbling forth. Sam would surely come to find him at sun up and he would be rolling on the floor gripping his sides like a maniac. Tears trickled out of the corners of his eyes and Dean laughed more.

Dean couldn’t fathom his ridiculous life. His ship’s hold was filled with demons and an angel was in love with him.

But the thing that had Dean unhinged was the knowledge that against all odds, he loved that angel right back. Dean loved Castiel.

 

(to be continued)


	26. Chapter 26

 

 

Sam Winchester has had good days. Days when the wind was full in the sails and the weather was perfect, when Dean would be whooping with excitement as whatever ship they were on slipped fast and sure through the water. When everyone Sam loved was right there with him, safe, healthy and sound. When the crew’s bellies were full and the coffers over flowing with gains. Days when Sam could look up into the blue sky and feel truly alive.

He should have known that today would just not be one of those days.

First Kevin had overslept and was late for his duties up in the crow’s nest on watch. Their youngest crewman still not used to pulling duties on a ship since his indomitable mother had always kept him studying with scholars and learned men.

Then the sky was red on the horizon as dawn crept up, the clouds from yesterday seemingly following them as they cut through the water. Those clouds had grown heavier, rumbling along overhead and occasionally drizzling down faint drops of rain.

Next when Sam went to find his brother, he discovered Dean passed out on the floor of the War Room instead of in his own cabin asleep. Dean held a bottle of old rum that was empty and curled loose in his limp fingers. Sam had hauled his brother to Dean’s cabin to sleep it off. Then Sam returned to the main deck.

So when Sam found himself after the morning meal standing alongside one of the demon cages, and his head thundering with a headache to match the brewing stormy skies outside, he wasn’t surprised.

Inside the cage, the demon called Meg was smirking and flirting outrageously with Castiel.

Castiel for his part was standing at attention, stoic and silent. But the look he was giving the demon was unreadable and Sam thought he saw some untold emotion flicker behind the angel’s eyes.

“You’re really an adorable angel you know that Feathers?” Meg let out a throaty laugh as she leaned against the cage bars. “Why don’t you let me out of here and we’ll go get some rum and move some furniture around….”

Sam sighed. “If you aren’t going to be co-operative, Demon, I can have the Angel here introduce you the somber end of his blade with quick finality.” It was Sam turn to smirk a bit, “And I don’t believe it’s the angel blade you have in mind.”

Meg groaned and pushed away from the cage bars. “Oh fine. Spoil sport.” She waved her hand in the air and began to pace a bit around the inside of the small space. “What do you need to know Hunter?”

“I know your ship and your crew went to New Orleans recently. Is that why your demon pack needed the warship?” Sam frowned.

Meg gave off another throaty laugh, “Well, we did kinda need a lot of able bodies in short order.”

“So it was just happenstance that brought you to the Spanish crew and their ship?” Sam’s keen eyes tracked Meg as she paced.

“Yea, that about sums it up.” Meg faked a smile.

“The whore is lying.” Crowley’s voice came from his cage that sat across from Meg’s cage.

“What do you know about it….Salesman?” Meg sneered.

“I know you were answering a call from a demon General. We all heard his call to arms.” Crowley spat.

“So why didn’t you answer this…call?” Castiel looked to the East India merchant lord, his eyes narrowing.

“Because I’m not a bloody dog who comes to heel when some boorish lout yowels for help.” Crowley stood straighter and adjusted his overcoat. “I’m a business man. I have better things to do with my time than take over warships, trash American port cities, and do the bidding of some crusty old style madman. Even if it does mean hunting down you Winchesters.” Crowley paused and pointed at Sam, “I want my ship back!”

In a deadpan voice Castiel replied, “Your ship was wrecked by a giant sea monster. You can find it dry docked on the rocks near The Skulls Maw.”

“Sea monster?! Are you joking?!” Crowley puffed up his chest, “You owe me a ship! And I want my tablet back and my silver chest back…. AND my Prophet!!”

Sam blinked and nudged his chin out as he stared at Crowley. After a moment’s thought he turned to Castiel, “Knock them out unconscious. Then meet me in the war room.”

Castiel nodded and reached through the bars, easily tapping Crowley on his forehead with two fingers. Crowley dropped to the floor unconscious instantly. Then Castiel turned towards Meg. Before she could even blink, Castiel’s fingers were touching her head and she too was falling to the floor of her cage.

Satisfied, Sam turned and started to leave the part of the hold where the demon cages were. As he passed the other demon woman’s cage, Sam heard her call out.

“Wait… please.” She pleaded, looking at Sam with large soft dark eyes. “I’ll tell you everything! Please don’t go.”

Sam paused and held up his hand to halt Castiel from approaching. Cas held back, waiting beside Meg’s cage. Sam gestured for the woman to speak, and then folded his arms over his chest. “Your name?”

“Ruby.” She stepped closer so she could see through the cage bars clearly. “Crowley speaks the truth. We were all called, to meet near Ide Mugeres. We were told to overcome the Man of War, the ‘Nuestra Señora del Buen Fin’, take the crew and all aboard as vessels and then sail to New Orleans.”

“For what purposed?” Sam raised a brow.

“We were given a series of tasks. First was to find the priestess Missouri Mosley and kill her. Then we were to scour the Caribbean for this ship, the Impala.” Ruby paused, glanced in Castiel’s direction, then looked back at Sam, “Once we had this ship, we were to find a musket hidden somewhere on it. Then we were to bring that weapon…. And bring you Sam Winchester… and meet in Ascension Bay south of Cozumel.”

Sam planted his hands on his hips and looked at Ruby carefully. “Who were you going to meet?”

“The same General that summoned us.” Ruby looked up at Sam, “Captain Grigori, also known as Azazel.”

“What does Azazel want with me?” Sam made a skeptical face, yet deep in the back of Sam’s mind, something was nagging at him, something that made his chest tighten and a pit of coldness settled into his gut.

“We weren’t told this.” Ruby looked sincere, and upset.

Sam shifted his stance and then he looked darkly at Ruby, “Which one of you killed Missouri Mosley?”

Ruby lowered her head demurely and fussed with a lace handkerchief in her hands, “Was not me. I remained aboard the ship as a group went ashore.”

Sam merely nodded, and made to turn away, but then he paused and leaned closer to Ruby as if to speak candidly, “Why do you tell me these things? You are not loyal to your fellow demons? No loyalty to Azazel?”

“I was compelled to join them. The call Azazel sent out was powerful and I was not strong enough to resist it.” Ruby looked up at Sam now, her eyes soft, “I did not want to be part of their campaign. I even took the dead girl’s vessel so as not to harm someone already living. And….” She looked into Sam’s eyes now, and a faint blush spread over her cheeks, “How could I wish harm someone so handsome and fair as you Sam Winchester?”

Sam’s eyebrows darted up and he stood up quickly, realizing just how close they had become as they talked. Flustered and confused by his reaction, he took several steps back and cleared his throat. “Ah, well….uh, thank you, then… for helping us.” Sam nodded quickly to Castiel and then made his way out of the hold heading up to the main deck as fast as his legs would take him.

Once he was up there he went to find Jo immediately, and grabbing her hand, was in the process of leading her someplace private where he could talk to her about Ruby when an unusual sound hit is ears.

It was beautiful.

Light, fluttering and fragile, the sound floated high along the air with a sweetness that drew Sam’s head around. He sighed aloud at how pleasurable it was to hear and he let Jo’s hand slip from his grasp as he turned to move across the main deck to the port side rail, chasing its source.

Sam reached the side at the same time as Garth and Kevin. It was stronger here, beckoning them with caressing tendrils of sound. Sam leaned to look over the side and saw the water shimmed and sparkled with glittering sunlight. He was so entranced by the sound and the light that he had forgotten how the heavy grey clouds choked the sky above them, or that they had not seen the sun in two days.

Dean stumbled out onto the main deck, his face twisted in pain as he held one hand to the side of his head. “WHAT THE SEVEN HELLS IS THAT SOUND?!” He stumbled further, gritting his teeth. To him the sound was torture, cleaving through his brain with burning agony.

The rest of the crew was running over to Sam, Garth and Kevin without pausing to answer Dean. Garth was halfway over the edge of the ship now, with Kevin and Sam close behind. Benny bear hugged Garth and lifted him off away from the edge just before Garth was able to jump. Charlie and Tamara grappled with Kevin, struggling until Christina added her weight to get the surprisingly strong young man hauled back to be dumped on the main deck. Jo reached Sam first, and had just gotten both her hands firm around his arm when Sam leapt over the side and pulled free of her grip.

Castiel was at Jo’s side just as the sound of Sam’s splash hit the air, resting his hand on her shoulder and looking over into the water. He said one word to Jo, and then he vanished with his usual angelic fluttering, going after Sam.

Dean finally made his way to Jo’s side and he leaned over to look down to the water. The light was harsh, blinding his eyes and making his head hurt more. “What is it?! Jo???”

Jo unsheathed her favorite knife with a murderous look, “Mermaids.” Then she gripped the blade between her teeth and dove over board to help Sam.

 

 

 

 

Sam found himself sinking into bliss. Tender kisses dotted his face as hands curled around him, soft arms cradling him. More hands caressed and smoothed over his body, brining him pleasure and delight. Sam relaxed and let himself be pulled down into the water, a delirious look over his face.

But then the hands and the kisses were gone, and Jo was there, curving her petite but strong arm around his chest, drawing him close to her. She began to tug and jostle him upwards, away from the deepening water towards the surface. Her other arm slashed back through the water, her blade lethal. When they broke through the water’s surface, both their mouths gasped for air and Sam blinked. Jo had him firm against her body as she swam with him, sheathing her blade to get a better hold on him. She brought him over to the side of the ship where a loading palette had been lowered to the water by the rest of the crew.

Disoriented and groggy, Sam looked around.

The waters were filled with Mermaids.

Hundreds of them were surrounding the Impala, all shapes and sizes. Their human like heads were bobbing just above the water’s surface, their wet hair floating in strange swirls around them and clinging to their shoulders. Their skin was fair to pale blue or green with vein like striations or darker spotted mottling, and their large eyes reminded Sam of an octopus. Their noses were mere nostril slits that closed and opened, and their mouths were filled with shark-like teeth.

All of their attention was held on Castiel now. He was, as if it were an everyday occurrence, quite literally standing lightly above the surface of the water. His shoes weren’t even wet.

Jo hefted Sam up onto the loading palette and then hopped up to sit beside him. Once there, she wrapped a protective arm around him, and glared furiously at the Mermaids.

Castiel was talking now, his voice making these clipped chirping noises. He would speak in this way, and then one of the Mermaids would answer in the same manner. Then another one would speak, using the same odd sounds, and then another. Castiel conversed with them in this way for several moments.

Then one of the Mermaids came up further out of the water, her scaly tail shimmering as it undulated in a way to help her rise. Around her hips she had a belt fashioned with six leather pockets and pouches, the leather dark and saturated with seawater. She unbuckled the belt and handed it to Castiel who took it with a small bow. She sank back into the water, and then one by one all the Mermaids dipped below the surface to vanish into the depths of the sea.

Castiel flickered away, and Sam found himself drawn up with Jo as the crew heaved on the ropes.

Soon the crew was all on the main deck, Sam and Jo dripping puddles where they stood but looking no worse for wear.

Dean rubbed his heels of his hands against his forehead and groaned. “I want to ask… no, forget that, I want to DEMAND to know what in the seven hells is going on with this ship… but you know what? Not yet…..”

Dean paused and looked around at his crew. “Garth, Charlie and Victor… get in that galley and get a meal going. Kevin, Christina and Benny… I want table and benches here on the main deck. Tamara, Jo and Sam, I don’t care just… help… or something. Cas?? Just…. Just do whatever. When I come back out here I want us all to sit down, to EAT and DISCUSS. I want to know what’s happening with the demons in my ships hold and I want to know why there are freakin’ Mermaids around my ship!” Dean snorted slightly then turned and marched back to his cabin.

The crew scattered leaving Castiel to stand there holding the belt the Mermaids had given him. He inspected it carefully and found the initials “J.W.” tooled into the leather on the underside of one pocket. He nearly gasped at seeing the initials. Castiel recognized the belt. It had been on John Winchester’s body when it was tossed overboard by Azazel.

 

 

 

 

Dean had bathed and put on fresh clothing. His hangover was fading, and his head felt a lot better. He padded out of his cabin on bare feet to find his crew waiting for him on the main deck as ordered.

A long table had been loaded with a small feast with stew, cheeses, bread and fruit. Lanterns had been hung overhead, strung swinging from mast to mast to light the table now that the sun was setting.

Dean’s crew was waiting for him, seated around the table, leaving him a chair at the end. He sat and took the bowl of stew handed to him, and then more food was passed around. Everyone was eating but beyond quiet small talk nothing was really said. Dean glanced around the table. Castiel was sitting to Dean’s left, and Sam at his right. Sam was eating heartily but in contrast Castiel merely rested his hands beneath the table.

After Dean emptied his bowl and had eaten his fill, he stood up with his wine in his hand. “So. Where should we start?”

Sam immediately spoke, telling everyone how he had learned that the demons had been summoned by Azazel and told to take control of the Man of War. When Sam told them how they were ordered to kill Missouri, Castiel reiterated how Missouri had come to him in his dream and told him they had failed. She was still alive and had let the demons believe they had succeeded. Sam had agreed with a nod, then informed the crew of the rest of the demon’s mission; to find the Impala, and the musket, to kidnap him and where they would rendezvous with Azazel.

Through this Dean glowered and paced slightly, swirling his wine in his cup.

“And just for the record, I believe Ruby tried to enchant me earlier when I was speaking to her. I was um,” Sam nearly blushed, “I was overcome with the feeling I should be favorable to her. To look on her with no small amount of …..” Sam cleared his throat. “At length anyway, I am quite sure she lied to me about her involvement.” Sam broke off more bread and reached for the honey that was at the table.

Dean nodded, “Do you think we can gain anymore information from any of those demons?”

“Doubtful.” Castiel frowned. “There is something else. When I looked at the demon’s true faces, the one named Meg carries a mark on her. It is like a tattoo of sorts, burnt into her demon essence. And it’s troublesome.”

“How so?” Sam looked at Castiel.

“It’s the mark of Lucifer.” Castiel looked uncomfortable.

“As in th’ great big bad fallen Angel?” Benny raised his brows.

“The same.” Castiel looked around the table, “I had heard rumors that his demonic followers bore his mark to show their allegiance, but I thought it only that. A rumor. Evidently this is not so.”

“Does this mean that Azazel has connections to Lucifer?” Charlie’s eyes were wide, “Because whoa… isn’t this a little above our usual thing?”

“It could be just a coincidence, that a follower of Lucifer’s was drawn into Azazel’s plans.” Garth said as he piled some grapes onto his plate.

Kevin stood up then and looked at Dean, then Sam. “I don’t think it is coincidence. You know that tablet I have?” Kevin drew in a deep breath, “It’s all about demons. How to hurt them, bind them, banish them… and more. At first when Crowley began to force me to translate and transcribe what was on it, I thought it was just so he could protect himself from those things.”

“Hold on, you knew he was a demon?” Charlie looked at Kevin.

“Yes?” Kevin raised his brows.

“And you didn’t think that was important to tell us?” Dean put his wine down and nailed Kevin with a look.

“I really didn’t think we would be running into him again Dean.” Kevin shot back.

“Okay… okay….” Sam stood up, one hand reaching gently for his brother. “Kevin you were saying?”

“One of the things on the tablet discusses the Gates of Hell. There are parts that talk about closing individual gates, and parts that talk about closing ALL the Gates. Crowley was particularly interested in getting all of that info.” Kevin raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, “I never gave him that though. I was stalling and then you found me.”

Charlie leaned back in her chair, “So what…. if Azazel is working for Lucifer, trying to free him or something. He’s building a demon army for Lucifer to command when he’s out?”

“Tha’s kinda a stretch there darlin’” Benny gave a small nod to Charlie.

“Agreed….” Charlie sat up and met Benny’s eyes, “But think about it. Azazel has been doing ‘something’ for all these years…. Ritual killings over and over and over. Then he stops that and starts drawing demons to him from all over the place. He has them go and try to kill one of the priestesses that might mess up his plans. He’s after the musket, which could definitely stop him in his tracks. And then one of the big demons Azazel just happens to call to him is a follower of Lucifer??” Charlie shakes her head, “Add in this business with Crowley and the tablet…. All these weird loose ends happening now? I just don’t see how they can’t be connected.”

Dean dropped down into his chair. “Okay. Say Azazel is trying to bring Lucifer here, and somehow all the killings he was doing was paving the way somehow. And now he’s building a demon army.” Dean gestured to Sam, “Why plan on kidnapping Sam? Hold him as hostage to keep us from attacking?”

“We’re missing pieces to this puzzle.” Tamara said quietly, then she looked at Kevin, “Can you read the whole tablet yet?”

“No, not yet. There are still parts I am working on.” Kevin confessed.

“What about the musket?” Jo spoke up, “It was supposed to be here on the Impala. Have we found it yet?”

Dean frowned, frustration bubbling up in his voice, “No. And Sam and I have looked all over the war room, in Dad’s old room, in the secret compartments in the ceiling rafters…. Everywhere.”

“There are secret compartments in the rafters in our cabins?” Christina looked surprised and delighted.

Garth chuckled and pointed between Christina and Benny, “Yea, you’d know if you two’d come up for air once in a while.”

Benny merely grinned.

Dean rolled his eyes a little but smiled, “Okay okay… so we need find Azazel, figure out what he’s really up to, translate that tablet and find the musket.”

“This may be of help.” Castiel lifted the belt the Mermaids had given him and placed it on the table in front of Dean. “It’s from the Mermaids. Missouri sent them to retrieve it and bring it to you and Sam.”

Sam coughed nervously, “Uh, yea, what…. What was that all about earlier? Luring us…” Sam waved his hand between himself, Garth and Kevin, “Overboard and all? If they were sent to help us?”

Castiel gave a small twitch of his eyebrows and rolled his eyes a little. “They were hungry and did not understand that they should not bait for their supper while they were here.”

“Hope you let them know we are not on the menu!” Garth nodded wide-eyed.

“I did explain yes. They also apologized for the misunderstanding.” Castiel looked around the table, his eyes hopeful that this would be accepted.

Jo snorted, “Apology or no, they do it again and I will hack every last one of them into fish food.”

“They were tasked with protecting this ship, and now they understand that the crew is a vital part of the ship. They will behave. You have my word.” Castiel spoke earnestly to Jo.

“That still don’t explain why their song only affected Sam an Garth an Kev?” Benny shrugged a little, “Why not the rest of us? And why was the sound causing Dean so much pain?”

Castiel shifted in his chair, “Mermaid song only affects those whose hearts are not taken by another.”

Sam nodded slowly while Garth let out a laugh.

“The bane of too may ladies huh Garth?” Kevin smiled and gave Garth a small playful shove.

"So Charlie, who has your heart that you didn't swoon for the mermaid ladies?" Jo teased.

Charlie merely smiled and rolled her eyes.

“And me?” Dean looked at Castiel now, his eyes guarded and his face neutral. "I wasn't taken in by their song. Quite the opposite. It hurt like a son of a bitch."

Castiel met Dean’s eyes but then looked down, a faint dusting of color coming to his cheeks, “It could be because you and….”

“It was because of Dean’s hangover that’s what!” Garth smiled and most of the crew laughed.

Dean drummed a finger on the table, his eyes glancing about at the crew. They were laughing and joking now, or talking about the tablet, the demons and the mermaids. Their attention far from their Captain and who he might be in love with.

Sam hid behind his glass and shrugged at Dean. That freed Dean’s attention back to the belt Castiel had placed before him, and gave him the perfect excuse not to talk to Castiel about what had happened the night before. About their kiss or about how his heart raced in his chest when he looked at the angel. About how everything between them had changed.

Dean picked the belt up, and began opening the pouches and pockets, investigating the contents carefully. When he pulled out a small thin flat piece of wood with an Enochian sigil carved on it, Dean froze. It looked exactly like the failsafe talisman Castiel had described, the one Missouri had made to snap the angels out of their spell and unlock their grace. The one John had not made use of, and had hung to death for it.

Slowly Dean looked over at Castiel to find the angel’s eyes were locked onto the piece of wood between Dean’s fingers. When Castiel simply nodded, Dean stood up, and began to empty the belt’s contents quickly onto the table. Sam’s attention was immediately caught, and he stood up as well.

Dean looked at the gathering of items on the table before him, and he had to wipe his hand down his face. This was everything John had on his person when he died. Whatever remaining secrets John had kept, Dean silently prayed that they would be revealed now.

 

 

 

One whistle.  
A broken rosary.  
Three gris-gris cowry shells.  
A soggy hex bag.  
A small notebook whose ink was now washed out and illegible.  
One coin bag full of Chinese coins.  
Several small maps made of linen, folded but water stained.  
A locket with a piece of wet blonde hair tied with a tiny ribbon.  
And the one unused wooden talisman.

 

Dean sighed and sat back into his chair. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cast a spell and summon his father’s ghost and scream at the ghost. He resisted the urge to scream and throw all the items from John’s belt across the surface of the deck. None of the contents of the belt had given him any clue as to where the musket may be, or why John had allowed himself to be hung.

Dean was about to grab the biggest bottle of rum on the table and enjoy a repeat performance of the previous evening’s drunkenness when Sam’s hand shot out and grabbed Dean’s arm.

“Dean, look!” Sam had unfolded one of the linen maps partway, the corner of it curling over between Sam’s long large fingers. At the edges there were markings, thin black lines and a few tiny red marks.

Sam began to clear away the table in front of he and Dean to make more room. Then he started unfolding and arranging the linen maps, sometimes flipping them over, always placing one edge of a map against another edge.

“It’s a puzzle.” Castiel was standing now too, as was the rest of the crew, all jockeying to find a place to stand where they could view what Sam was doing.

“Look, Dad drew another map…No, it’s a diagram! A simple diagram at the edges of each map.” Sam then pointed to the small red marks alongside the back lines, “I think the red ink is the guide. Like a compass rose? If they align just right it should show us something….” Sam moved the maps around once, then twice, then stopped. The red marks lined up to form a “W” at the center where the linen pages met. Around it was a diagram for the back hold on the Impala, near the rudder. There was a distinct spot marked and under it was the word “key”.

Dean’s eyes went wide, “Grab some lanterns! I’ll be right down.” With that Dean bolted back to his cabin to find the key Castiel had discovered on the beach when they had been marooned. He slammed open his cabin door and began tearing through one of his cabinets. He found the key affixed on a leather cord, and he snatched it up. He rubbed his thumb along the words etched into the key’s surface: ‘non timebo mala quoniam tu mecum es’.

Dean dashed from his cabin and ran down below deck to catch up with the rest of the crew. They were picking their way down into the rear of the hull, following John’s diagram. Soon Dean was crouching into the tight space beside the rudder housing, rolling the key in his fingers.

There, seated and bolted behind one of the hull’s ribs was an iron box engraved with all manner of warding. On it’s front sat a seated lock with a keyhole.

Dean drew in a breath, his green eyes wide. His finger twitched a little with the combination of hope and anxiety that was jumping under his skin. Carefully he slipped the key into place in the lock and gave it a gentle turn. The lock made a soft ‘click’ and the lid of the iron box gently rose open.

Cushioned within on soft velvet were thirteen shot balls, and a pouch of gunpowder marked with sigils and beautifully crafted musket whose barrel bore the same words as on the key.

Dean let out a relieved breath. “Finally.”

 

(to be continued)


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness of this chapter. Technical difficulties.
> 
> *Includes explicit sexual content towards the end.
> 
> Very bottom has a diagram of Dean's cabin, and the layout of the Impala by deck.
> 
> Thank you again genuinely for reading and commenting. I appreciate it more than I can express. xo

 

 

 

 

The moon was coming around towards full again, but it’s growing face was hidden and muddled by the persistent clouds that hung lazy above the Impala. She sat still and quiet in the waters, the seas calm. Most of her crew was bedded down for the night, except for Jo and Tamara keeping watch. One was in the crow’s nest, one on the main deck.

  
The only others who were awake was Castiel who had taken to keeping guard down with the demon prisoners, and Dean.

  
Dean was seated up over the bowsprit past the forepeak, having climbed to the furthest forward point the ship he could go without falling into the sea. Straddling it, he let each leg dangle high over the waters, hands planted firmly against the smooth crafted wood. He took in a long deep breath, just enjoying the light evening breeze on his face. They had found the musket, and some of his agitation had been eased this night.

  
For a long time he just sat viewing the sky, letting himself relax. After a while he considered climbing back down and to his bunk. But then movement in the water caught his eye and he looked down to see several mermaids swimming just below him. They swam well beneath the surface, and if not for the flash of a tail caught on what little moonlight peeked out, Dean might not have seen them at all. He was about to look away, when one came up from the depths to breach the surface and look directly at him. Dean instinctively winced, expecting that painful noise of a song to come out of her mouth.

  
Instead, the mermaid rose up much like the one who had given Castiel John’s belt, using her tail's movement to hold herself higher out of the water. She looked directly at Dean but remained silent. Then as quickly as she came, she dove under the water.

  
Dean shrugged and began to maneuver his tired limbs up so he could make his way back off the bowsprit, when he caught the sound of a sudden splash from below. It was followed by a ‘thump’, and the bowsprit vibrated as if hit. Dean turned to find the mermaid had launched herself up and out of the water, and had grasped the bowsprit with her arms. Before he could shout to Jo or Tamara, the mermaid had lifted herself fully onto the bowsprit and was now seated an arm’s length away from Dean.

  
The knife Dean always kept strapped at the back of his belt was in his hands now, and he prepared to fight his uninvited intruder.

  
The mermaid simply began to swing her tail back and forth through the air in a childlike way. Her eyes shifted oddly, and Dean realized the mermaids had clear secondary eyelids under their other outer lids. She sat there regarding him a moment, and then seemed to notice the knife in his hands.

  
“You won’t need that.” She giggled, and even though the inflection of her words was heavily accented, Dean could still understand her.

  
“Why didn’t you speak English before?” Dean kept the knife out, narrowing his eyes at her.

  
“The Angel Castiel addressed us in our own language.” She merely shrugged, her long pale hair clinging to the blue-green skin of her shoulders.

  
“What do you want… why are you up here?” Dean demanded.

  
“I have a message for you.” She looked up at the sky, still swinging her tail. “And I wanted to talk to you about the Angel Castiel, because we have come to like and respect him. We do not want to see him harmed.”

  
"Nothing can harm Cas." Dean gruffed out. “Go on then, speak your peace.”

  
The mermaid looked to Dean now, and then at the knife. She raised one brow at it and then looked back at Dean.

  
With an annoyed groan, Dean sheathed the knife into his belt. “There. Happy?”

  
“I’d be happier if you allowed us to eat the largest male on this ship. He smells delicious.” She said casually.

  
Dean pointed a finger at her and growled, “No. That’s my brother! You stay away from him.”

  
“He’s one of John’s offspring then?” She nodded, and her eyes went wide as if this was of great importance.

  
“What difference does it make? Go snack on a shark or something. Sheesh.” Dean gestured between himself and the mermaid. “Are we done here?”

  
The mermaid shook her head and looked away from Dean, “John said you would be difficult.”

  
“Wait, you spoke with my Father??” Dean’s grip where he held on to the wood of the bowsprit tightened.

  
“Of course. When he gave me his belt to bring to the Angel Castiel.” She looked at Dean as if it was all so obvious.

  
“Uh, when my father had that belt on, he was dead…” Dean moved his head and looked at her slightly off sides.

  
The mermaid rolled her eyes, “Yes he was.”

  
“So you…. spoke to him after he died?!” Dean frowned.

  
“Please Dean, son of John.” She made a ‘tsk’ sound with her tongue. “You know souls can still speak even after the tongue has lost its life.”

  
Dean shifted closer, one foot dangling next to her tail. “So tell me then, what did my father speak of after he died?”

  
“Regret.” The mermaid looked at Dean, and if he thought it possible for a creature such as this to show sadness, that is what it looked like now. “He wanted so much to see you and his other sons again. He was torn with guilt at leaving you the tasks you must face now, at not being here with you again on this ship. He dearly cares for you and your brothers. And he wished he was able to walk a different path…”

  
“Wait, brothers?” Dean looked confused.

  
“Ae’, John has three sons.” The mermaid held up one hand with two fingers, “Two by Mary.” Then she held up her other hand with one finger held up, “And one with Katherine in Nassau.” She paused and looked closely at Dean, “You did not know?”

  
“I did not know.” Dean frowned and shook his head, his stomach unsettled. “Looks like Dad kept a lot of secrets from me.”

  
Hesitantly, the mermaid reached over and gently patted Dean’s leg, “Ae’, and there lies much of his regret.”

  
“I wonder what else he didn't….” Dean took in a deep breath deciding it wouldn’t get him anywhere to follow that train of thought. So instead he said, “What else did he tell you?” He emphasized the ‘you’ and gestured to the mermaid.

  
The mermaid nodded and she withdrew her hand, “John went to his death for a reason. He died as he did so that in death, he would be cursed….on purpose….and as such, would become one of those whom sail with the Flying Dutchman.”

  
“WHAT?” Dean felt the rest of his breath stick in his throat. "The Dutchman?!"

  
“John needed to become part of the crew of that cursed ghost ship. He was on his way down to join it when he gave me his belt. He said he had to be aboard The Dutchman, that one day soon that ship and her tormented crew would be needed to stop the demon you hunt.” The mermaid blinked her eyes at him normally, and then blinked them again with those clear secondary lids.

  
“Dad went to join the crew of the Dutchman….” Dean wiped a hand over his face and tried to let this news process in his mind. “So that’s why he didn’t unleash the angels to help him… he was planning on letting Azazel kill him….” Dean felt a coldness creep into his skin.

  
The mermaid nodded gently, then began to reach down as if she would swing herself off the bowsprit and back to the water.

  
“Wait!” Dean reached out and took hold of her wrist. Her skin was like a dolphin’s hide, smooth and cool on the surface but something warmer pulsing beneath. “How…. How will we get word to Dad when we find Azazel?”

  
She pulled free of Dean’s grasp gently and slipped around to hang by her hands off the bowsprit. “That feat is easy Dean, son of John. The Flying Dutchman will come to you when it’s time. Do not concern yourself with it. The question you should be asking me is how to free your Angel from the doubt holding down his heart. His grace glows in harmony with your soul. Anyone can see it.” Her tone now was almost accusing and angry, “Either deny him, break his heart and send him back to the Host, or embrace his love and make him yours. Do not let him torment further.” She paused, and then smiled purposely, showing her many lethally sharp teeth, “Tormenting those on the sea is my job, not yours.”

  
The shift in topic from his father to Castiel caught Dean off guard and it made him reel a little. He balked a moment, staring into her strange inhuman eyes. When his voice came, it wasn’t the voice of the confident pirate captain. Instead it was of the man too afraid to hope that the angel returned his feelings. “I don’t understand, Cas isn’t in love with me…”

  
The mermaid snapped her teeth and gave a little hiss between them, “For a pirate so clever and bold, it is incomprehensible how blind you can be. Have you not seen how your Angel looks at you? Has he not done all for your well-being and benefit? Even now he takes watch over the demons in your hold not because it is his angelic duty, but because he sees them as a threat to you and yours. He will forever place himself between danger, death and destruction….and the soul whom he loves best. Your soul, Dean.”

  
“Why doesn’t he tell me then?!” Dean spat out, frustrated. “Why has he not said as much to me?”

  
The mermaid gave him that look again, the same as she had before when Dean still had his knife out. The look that said he knew perfectly well why.

  
Dean swallowed hard, and looked away. “Is this why you and your sister’s song hurt me to hear?” Dean’s heart was hammering in his chest now, and his breath came shallow.

  
Her wicked grin grew wide once more, “Yes.”

  
“Because… because I lov…” Dean’s hands began to shake a little, “Because I love Cas, and I withhold it, that’s why your song was painful to me.”

  
“Yes. And you both reek of turmoil because of it. The stench of it hovers about you like a cloud. Mermaids may not want to take a bite of you, but there are far deadlier nastier things than we in the ocean’s depths, things that feed on wasted love. Those brutal things would happily dine on both you and the Angel in the state you are in.” With that she released her hold and with a twist of her body she dove back into the waters.

  
Dean blinked a moment, staring at the spot where she had submerged. His mind however was elsewhere, thinking of Castiel. Slowly Dean crawled off the bowsprit, and once he was on the forecastle, he stopped. In his mind he was replaying the last few months; becoming attracted to Castiel instantly when he had seen the Commander on the Seraph, how he had been drawn to the man, ached to know the feel of his strong body against Dean’s own. How they had come together, become lovers and how they had forged this easy camaraderie. How on the island Castiel had been so devoted in his care of Dean, making sure he was fed and that he slept. And how Castiel had dived selflessly to save he and Sam, unknowing that his angelic nature would save them all. Castiel would have willingly died that day trying to keep he and Sam alive.

  
Dean reached his hand up to clutch tight at his shirt over his chest, over his heart. When had he gone from a close friendship with Cas, to falling so far, so deeply in love? He couldn’t pin point it or qualify it. He only knew that the last time he and Castiel had kissed, it had meant more than ever before.

  
Dean lifted his eyes and looked across the ship. He took in the Impala’s sails, trimmed now as she sat asleep in the night. He beheld her main deck, her masts, and the wheel where Tamara was now dutifully scanning the horizon with a spyglass in one hand. Dean looked to the crow’s nest and saw Jo leaning at its rail, her eyes in the other direction. This ship. His crew. His family. And Dean knew that he truly wanted Castiel to stay and be part of that for always. And so he had to find out. He had to know if Castiel's heart beat along with his. He had to know if the mermaid was speaking the truth.

  
Dean released his grip on his shirt and a light flickered on in his eyes as an idea took hold. Dean moved quickly across the main deck. He went back into the war room and searched around a bit until he could find…. There it was. He pulled a thin twinkling silver chain out of a small drawer and closed his hand around it. A hopeful smile slowly worked its way across Dean’s face. He turned then, the item in hand, and went to his cabin.

  
Once inside, he closed the door. His cabin now, no longer his father’s. The door opened inward, and was placed on the aft side of the innermost wall. Just to Dean’s right as he came in was the built in bunk, and at the foot of that a washbasin and chamber pot. Under the porthole windows was a desk, and then the wall opposite the bunk was floor to ceiling storage. Shelves, a wardrobe and drawers of all sizes were built into a unit that covered the whole wall. Dean looked around the cabin once, then looked down at the item in his hand. He tucked the chain in his pocket to keep it within quick reach. Next Dean crossed the room to wash his face and rinse his mouth, and paused to looked at himself in the refection of the small mirror kept near his washbasin. There would be time to talk to Sam at length tomorrow about their father and what waited for them in Nassau as they sailed. Right now however, he needed to work things out with Castiel.

  
Dean took in a deep breath to clear his head. His insides were dancing with anticipation, excitement and so much hope. He nodded to himself, schooled his features to something calmer and cleared his throat. “Cas?” Dean called out, “Castiel? Cas could you wing your angelic self up here to my cabin? I uh, I need to talk to you about the mermaids….” Dean paused and then, “Cas?”

  
For an agonizingly long moment Dean started to think Cas hadn’t heard him, or had decided to ignore him. But then that tell tale sound of Castiel’s arrival hit Dean’s ears, that odd a mix of a loose sail fluttering in the wind combined with wings flapping….

  
Castiel was there in Dean’s cabin.

  
“Is anything amiss? Did they try to lure Sam overboard again?” Castiel stood with his hands behind his back, his formal attire still on, dark hair tied back at the nape of his neck with a blue ribbon, and his hat perfectly perched on his head.

  
“No Sam is fine….. I just need to talk to you.” Dean stepped up to stand close to Castiel. He reached up and removed Cas’ hat from his head.

  
“Dean… what are you doing?” Castiel made to reach for the hat, but as he did, Dean used his free hand to slip something bright and metallic onto Castiel’s wrist. Castiel looked closely at the thing. It was a sparking silver chain with various runes and sigils on it, the very item Dean had tucked into his pocket. “Dean what is this? What are you doing?”

  
Dean placed Castiel’s hat on his own head and then stepped back, grinning playfully. He hopped onto his bunk and drew up one leg. “That is a Faerie artifact.”

  
“It is not.” Castiel sounded scandalized and looked closer. Briefly his eyes gave off a faint angelic glow, and then his eyes went normal and snapped back to Dean. Castiel’s face was the picture of displeasure and annoyance. “Where did you get this?!”

  
“That doesn’t matter.” Dean smiled, “What matters is that you can’t feather your way off out of this room to go flying off wherever until we are done talking. As long as you have that thing on, you are bound to stay within ten feet of me and only I can remove it.”

  
Castiel dropped his arms to his sides. “Why would you do this? Why would you keep me tethered to your side in this way?”

  
Dean let out a sigh and stood, dragging the hat off his head and placing it back onto Castiel’s. Then he looked the angel in his eyes, “Because when I kissed you last, you fled and I need to know why.”

  
“So this has nothing to do with the mermaids….” Castiel glared a little.

  
Dean lifted his hands in surrender, “No, it does. I found out why their song made my head hurt, and well…” Dean shrugged. “Kinda leads me to believe you and I need to y’know…” His hands opened and closed as he shrugged again and Castiel’s only response was to squint at Dean and look confused.

  
“C’mon Cas! Help me out here! You know I’m terrible at talking about this stuff!” Dean face looked pained.

  
“That is a bold faced lie Dean Winchester. You have excellent communication abilities when you want to make use of them. You speak candidly with your crew and your brother all the time.” Castiel crossed his arms over his chest and continued to glare.

  
Dean lifted his brows as if to say ‘oh is that so?’. Then he stepped right up to Castiel and poked Castiel in the center of his chest with one finger, “Well if I’m being a pain about this so are you. I think right now you’re trying to avoid talking about what’s going on between us… or more like what used to go on between us….because you don’t want to deal with me or…” Dean pointed back and forth between them both, “This!”

  
Castiel lightly slapped Dean’s hand away to make him stop poking. He narrowed his eyes down and jutted his chin out, then took a step towards Dean. “I’m not alone in avoiding…this… Dean how many weeks has it taken for you to just look at me since the Impala was raised?”

  
“Oh no, don’t you even dare! I had a crew to see to, we needed to get off that island and get moving! And you were just as bad! You avoided me on purpose Cas!” Dean drew up to his full height and brought his finger back up to poke Castiel once again. “And then when I did try to reconnect with you, you flew away!”

  
“You must understand Dean,” Castiel swatted Dean’s hand away again, and as he spoke he crowded Dean against the wall of drawers and compartments beside the door to Dean’s cabin, “I am an angel. I cannot allow my feelings for one of the humans in my charge to take priority over my duties. Angels aren’t made to fall in love Dean! We aren’t created to know longing or want or to feel joy when our heart’s desire kisses us! We aren’t ever meant to even have a heart’s desire!” Castiel huffed and his nostrils flared, “You look at me Dean and I can not even think properly! When I was living as a human without my grace I thought it was simply the lust I had for you, the desires. But now, with my grace intact and active, you still distract me! My thoughts are all and only of you Dean! I am consumed with you and your every action; every decision I make is compromised because I am constantly weighing everything I do against how beneficial it is for you! All else is secondary!”

  
“I do it all for you Dean!” Castiel’s hands were now balled up in Dean’s shirt, hauling Dean against the wall with a rough thud, “I shouldn’t feel any of this…. but I do feel and….”

  
Dean gripped Castiel’s hands with his own, his heart racing as he eyes searched Castiel’s. “What do you feel Cas? Tell me…. What do you feel?”

  
“I ache Dean…” Castiel’s brows knotted up yet he kept his eyes even with Dean’s, “I thought it would be enough to be at your side and to watch over you, but I ache for more. When we kissed….”

  
“Yes?” That eagerness in Dean was spilling out now, and his hands held Castiel’s tight. Dean's face leaned closer, "What happened when we kissed?"

  
“I was overwhelmed. The sensation completely took me over, it surged through me and you were the only thing I knew. I was afraid I would be cut off from heaven and I would fall!” The words tumbled out of Castiel and real fear shown in his eyes. “But….”

  
“Tell me Cas…” Dean released one of his hands and reached over to rest his open palm against Castiel’s cheek.

  
“I don’t understand because… it felt so wonderful Dean. It felt like I belonged there in your arms. Like my whole being was rejoicing. It felt sweeter than anything I had ever known…” Castiel’s hold on Dean faded and the angel slipped against Dean fully, burying his face into Dean’s shoulder, “It felt right.”

  
Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, hugging the angel to him tightly. His own eyes were bright with emotion, and he clung to Castiel. “Cas… I want you to stay. I… I need you Cas.”

  
Castiel nudged his head up and pulled away only as much as he needed to look into Dean’s eyes. “And if I fall? What then?"

  
Dean shook his head, “We’ll figure it out Cas. We’re Winchesters. We’ll figure it out.”

  
Castiel held still and read Dean’s gaze. It was warm, loving, hopeful, determined. Castiel answered with a small nod, then tentatively leaned the short distance needed to place a small soft kiss on Dean’s lips. Dean responded by wrapping his arms fully around Castiel and returned the kiss happily. That kiss led to another, and then to another. And soon they were holding each other, their mouths now speaking a different kind of language even though they were still saying the same thing. Confessing their love for the other again and again without speaking a word.

 

 

 

 

They kissed for long moments and soon Castiel found his hat knocked from his head as Dean jockeyed them towards his bunk. Dean's hands had been in Castiel's hair to pull the blue ribbon free, and Castiel found his neck scarf tugged loose. Dean was working on undoing the long row of buttons down Castiel's waistcoat when Castiel became aware of of the hot pulse of desire that ran in tandem with the deep love he held for Dean inside. What was puzzling however, was that with each heated kiss he and Dean exchanged, he did not feel tainted or dirty or sullied. As Dean make short work of both their clothing, he kept pressing soft words of adoration against Castiel's skin as it became bare. And when Dean brought them both up onto the lush bedding of Dean's bunk, Castiel only felt thrilling eagerness.

No pain, no shame, no brimstone fires.

Dean for his part, behaved as if a man starved and denied sustenance who has finally been given a meal. His mouth roamed wantonly, tasting Castiel's skin, his jaw, his throat, his shoulders. Dean began to attempt to suck marks into the angel's skin only to be fascinated at how they would fade a moment later. So he would make another, and another and another, then watch curious as they vanished.

"What else does your angel power do Cas?" Dean peered up just before licking one of Castiel's nipples into his mouth.

Castiel gasped at the sensation, as it was somehow amplified more than it had been before with Dean. Where Dean's lips sucked and teased, it sent low threads of heat shooting through Castiel's being. It felt as if Dean's affect on Castiel's body was drawing Cas higher. Castiel's grace was joining with his love and desire for Dean now, surprising Castiel and it made him hyper aware of Dean's touch. "I... I don't know... I have never...."

Dean paused, the mischievous glint in his eye shifting to something hotter, deeper. "Never?"

"Only with you Dean. Only with you." Castiel's eyes darkened, and with that admission, he felt everything within him leap up with joy.

Dean grinned triumphantly and moved up Castiel's body, tried to smother Castiel with deep kisses. Dean's hands guided Castiel to lie back as he spread his own body over the angel's. While one hand clutched Castiel's thick soft hair between his fingers, the other rooted blindly into a compartment in the shelves at the head of Dean's bunk. After a moment Dean retrieved a small corked bottle of oil, and once in hand he released his hold on Castiel so he could sit up.

Castiel watched, stretched out under Dean as Dean planted himself to sit on Castiel's thighs. Dean towered over him, beautiful, golden, strong, and smiling with so much love in his eyes. As Dean opened the bottle and reached behind himself, Castiel let his hands wander, caressing Dean with his figertips. This was not the first time Dean had opened himself up, spread himself so Castiel could drive deep into Dean as Dean rode him. This was Dean's favourite and Castiel had always enjoyed indulging Dean in the past. Before with Castiel's grace and memories locked away, they had enjoyed sex with each other as often as possible.

This time however, there was a change beyond just the return of Castiel's angelic nature. Like their kiss the other night, the air took on a quality that was weighted with more meaning. Their eyes never veered from the each other, even as Dean began to lean over Castiel, his brow damp as he fingers went deeper within himself. Where before Dean would tease and make gentle jokes, this time they whispered soft words of need and want mixed with sweet promises of devotion. In previous encounters Castiel would stroke himself languidly as he watched Dean prepare, but now with the vibrations echoing between them, Castiel was as achingly hard and as was Dean. Castiel feared if he touched himself he would explode before Dean was done readying himself.

When Dean finally shifted, his hands had been wiped clean on the shirt he had been wearing. Both he and Castiel's cocks were slick with oil, but Dean paused before he sank down onto Castiel's cock. They kissed then, breathy and shivering, eyes closed with the fullness from their hearts. And when they couldn't wait anymore, Dean seated himself with a slow deliberate slide, punching a low groan from them both. Castiel bucked upwards and Dean rocked down. They rolled with wave like hitches of their bodies as their hips came apart and then pressed together once more. Castiel latched his hands to Dean's hips and pushed Dean to hold the angle that always without fail made Dean's eyes swoon closed.

Their paced quickened and Dean moved forward, his face pressed alongside Castiel's. Words and clipped gasps of passion hovered in each other ears until Castiel flipped them over with a growl, hitching Dean's leg over Cas' shoulder. Castiel thrust deeper, harder, faster and they both cried out with the intense pleasure that washed through them. Dean grappled with Castiel's arms, pulling Castiel closer, and then closer, their lips slipping against each other in time with the motion of their bodies.

Castiel could feel now, without a shadow of doubt that his body, heart, mind and grace thrummed with a beat completely entwined as one. And the closeness he and Dean were sharing went further than just their bodies. Castiel felt Dean's heart and soul as if they were tangible things now that neither of them were denying what they felt. He and Dean were rising and falling together as one, and as his heart and his grace soared, so did Dean's heart and his soul.

Soon their heat soaked bodies were jerking as they reached their peak, their fervor ratcheting tighter and tighter. Expletives and words of praise for Dean were falling from Castiel's mouth in all manner of ancient tongues while Dean was reduced to small high soft whimpers. Castiel confessed in a whisper that he needed Dean to come, needed Dean's release and a second later Dean gave it. As the hot thick seamen he shot between their bodies became smeared against their skin, Castiel thrust in one final time and came as well. They held each other fast, trembling against each other as smaller jolts of delight popped off within them.

In time they adjusted so they could kiss again, slow and relaxed, dizzy from their lovemaking. Castiel untangled himself from Dean, and using the water in the washbasin cleaned their bodies gently. When all was finished, they folded again into each other's arms, and tucked into Dean's bunk.

"You'll stay?" Dean murmured against Castiel's skin.

Castiel gathered Dean close and felt Dean begin to lull into that soft place just before sleep takes over, "Yes. Until the last star falls from the sky. I will stay with you Dean."

"I love you Cas." And with that Dean slept.

 

(to be continued)

 

 

Dean's cabin:

 

 

The Impala:

1\. The wheel

2\. Heavy canons

3\. Bowsprit

4\. Tamara's & Charlie's cabin

5\. Jo's cabin

6\. Victor & Garth's cabin

7\. Benny & Christina's cabin

8\. Main deck area

9\. Kevin's cabin & where he translates the tablet and the silver chest is stored

10\. Bath

11\. Dean's cabin

12\. Galley & crew dining area

13\. Sam's room

14\. "the War Room" and library

\- regular canon's on the Gun Deck with ladder hatches leading down to the lowest decks

15\. The cage Castiel had been in

16\. the new cages with Crowley, Ruby. Meg and the other demons

X = where John hid the Musket

Original map drawing by Dirty Jack Cash: http://d20pirates.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-galleon.html


	28. Chapter 28

 

 

Nassau

It’s reputation and history in the pirate world was rich and long. Infamous men like Blackbeard walked Nassau’s shores and had used her beaches as a safe haven. The governor had casually looked the other way, as pirates would sell their stolen cargo as long as enough of their gold wound up slipped into his greedy palms. Sam and Dean recalled The Impala anchoring off her coast when they were younger as John came ashore to trade in goods or information. It was where they had first met Bobby, Ellen and Jo. Sam experienced his first drunken fist fight at seventeen at the Misty Harbour Inn and Pub there in Nassau, and Dean had lost his virginity at the brothel across the way five years before that.

In the past the Winchesters had a friendly and profitable connection to Nassau and her inhabitants.

That past now was gone.

Sam sat once again on the very barstool he had occupied at seventeen that rowdy night years ago. Instead of being relaxed and jovial, enjoying drink and company, he was tense and wary. Jo sat beside him, equally as on guard, slipping her gaze sideways to watch where Sam could not.

There were British soldiers everywhere.

The old governor had been ousted by the Crown, and replaced with a new man, Woodes Rogers. Governor Rogers was determined to wrestle Nassau into respectability, and end piracy in the West Indies for good. To this goal he not only had bought heavy regiments with him to the island, he had also offered pardons to many pirates in exchange for information and assistance in hunting down their peers. Which meant that not only were the British citizens of Nassau a danger to the crew of the Impala, many of their former pirate contacts were now untrustworthy as well.

Sam pulled his hat down lower over his face and hunched his shoulders more to hide his height. He sipped his ale slowly, while Jo fiddled with her glass of rum.

The Impala’s crew had seen the British ships anchored offshore of Nassau when they were a few miles out. Their own ship was now anchored just past the Salt Cay, and the remaining crew was on alert, wary of being discovered and ready to sail off at a moment’s notice. If the on shore crew were left behind, they had plans to meet up on the other side of New Providence Island.

“I’m still not seeing any of the old dawgs what used to drink here Sam. I think the Red Coats have drummed them all off.” Jo leaned closer to Sam to speak low so they wouldn’t be heard over the rest of the chatter in the Pub.

Sam merely nodded and watched the workers and barkeep behind the bar there in the Pub. They were all Freemen, slaves who had found someway to unchain themselves from their masters. The previous Pub owner had been a Freeman himself, and eagerly employed others like him. Several of the staff had made eye contact with Sam, and there had been recognition there. None made any move to bring the Red Coats down on he or Jo. They knew the crew of the Impala to be honest and good, and obviously held not love for the British.

“Where are Dean and Castiel?!” Jo hissed under her breath. “Rufus ain’t among these, and Bobby won’t be either. We should get back to the ship and get out of here. Head back to Tortuga.”

Sam nodded again, and angled his head closer to Jo. “It’s only been an hour Jo, they’ll be back soon.” Sam took in a deep breath of the scent of Jo’s hair and smirked. “You bathed and perfumed your hair… in a hurry to meet someone after ship’s business is done?” He leaned back and brought his eyes to his tankard but his smirk stayed.

Jo became very still on her seat beside Sam. “No.” He could hear the pout on her lips. “Maybe…”

Sam chuckled and glanced sideways to see Jo blushing.

His glance was met with her dark eyes, hesitant and guarded which made a fair contrast to the rosy color to her cheeks. “You think I smell pretty?”

Sam held her look for a moment and he felt a warm tingle roll through him. As long as he had known Jo, and it had been since they were small rough and tumble kids, he had always seen Jo as something special. When she had blossomed as a teen, peached of cheek and her lips like roses, more than a few times the mischievous glints in her eyes had made Sam’s heart skip a beat. He had always felt that perhaps there was something between them, something more than just a sense of a surrogate sibling. But when she had acted smitten for Dean in their teens, Sam had packed his interest in her and stowed it away.

Sam blinked and realized they had leaned in closer, eye contact unbroken and that dusting of color on her cheeks had deepened. “I think Jo, that whoever you fancy this night is a lucky soul, and aye, I do think you smell lovely.”

The guarded look in Jo’s eyes faded, and her dark eyes warmed. The corner of her mouth quirked up in a soft smile as she leaned in closer, but whatever words she was about to say were cut off.

“Do I know yer?” A man, heavy with drink and whose hand was now weaving sloppily between Jo and Sam, leaned on the bar beside Jo. He squint his eyes and looked at them both. “Yer look like I know ye…”

Jo turned on the man, her body now ridged and her smile menacing. “From N’Awlins are ye then?”

The man frowned and rolled his head more than shook it, “Naw, never been there.”

“Well that is where we hail from. Just passing through on our way to Cuba.” Jo said curtly, then hopped off her seat at the bar.

“Naw…. I do know ya… ya both….” The man scrunched up his face and wobbled towards Jo, “I’d nawt fergit a cute thing like you girl.”

Sam began to stand, sensing that Jo was inches away from making her fist at home with this drunk’s face, when he saw one of the well dressed British gents from one of the nearby stables slip up to intervene. “Is this man bothering you dear Lady?”

Getting a better look at the gent, Sam noted that the man was wearing clothing of a sailing officer much like Inias and Samandriel had worn. He watched Jo take in this new comer’s stance, and she curled her hand around her rum glass tighter.

“Just someone mistaken. We were leaving anyway. Have a good night.” Jo let go of her glass, smiled courteously and then turned away with Sam right beside her.

They were five feet from the bar and the two men, and fifteen feet from the door when the British gent spoke again, “Oh I don’t think it’s mistaken… Miss Harvelle.”

Sam heard Jo curse under her breath as they both stopped.

“And your companion in none other than Mr. Sam Winchester, is it not?” The gentleman said calmly.

Sam drew to his full height and took a breath. His right hand was already curled around the handle to his pre-loaded musket in his pocket. He could have it fired off in two seconds or less. He knew Jo already had at least a knife or two in hand. They could fight their way out, side to side. It wouldn’t be the first time. It might even be fun.

Sam was about to cock the hammer on his musket when the door was block by two soldiers. A nudge from Jo and Sam glanced around. More soldiers were stepping into the open, some even taking position from the upper balcony in the Pub. There were fifteen in all now.

“Allow me to introduce myself since I know both your names. I am Lieutenant Robert Maynard of Virginia.” The Lieutenant was walking up around on Jo’s left now, hands clasped behind his back much as Castiel had frequently done. “I’m on loan to Governor Rogers and my express purpose here is to aid in the capture of pirates. Enemies of the Crown such as yourself.” He was youthful, with short dark hair and a strong jaw. He was fit and Sam could tell this wasn’t an officer who kept his sword for ceremony. No, this man would be an adept opponent.

Sam saw Jo relax her shoulders out of the corner of his eye and knew she was thinking the same.

“So what now?” Sam pulled his hat from his head and let it fall to the floor.

“Well, you can come peaceably and be held in the Fort, and then after the new Judge here signs a writ of execution, be hanged here in Nassau for our Lord Governor…” Lieutenant Maynard stepped a bit closer, and his eyes glittered darkly. “Or we can have sword to sword and decide your fates here.”

The sound of Jo gritting her teeth in fury hit Sam’s ears a half second before someone screamed outside. A shout followed it, and then the Pub staff and workers were scattering, fleeing back into the kitchen behind the bar. They began to slam closed doors behind them, followed by the sound of those doors being bolted and barricaded.

Three random men came shoving into the Pub from the street, pushing into and trampling down the soldiers in their way. The men’s eyes wild with terror as they scrabbled for some place to hide. Another scream outside followed, and then another and more shouting.

Sam could see people running just outside the pub through its windows, and more people began trying to breach their way into the Pub. The soldiers in the door turned away from Sam, Jo and the Lieutenant to meet this new onslaught as more mayhem built outside the Pub in the street.

After another shout and then the very clear sound of someone meeting their end in agony, the Lieutenant growled angrily and turned away from Sam and Jo to snap orders at his soldiers. But then one of those soldiers was suddenly thrown back, another man from outside mauling and clawing at him, teeth chomping down into the soldier’s shoulder. This wild man attacking the soldier looked decayed and rotted, bones and skin eaten away by the grave. Worms were oozing out of his eye sockets.

“Jo!” Sam shoved his musket into its holster and made for behind the bar.

Jo held for a moment, watching the soldier scream horribly as he was eaten alive, now overrun by another dead man joining the first. The other soldier beside him was trying desperately to kill the first attacker by stabbing it with his bayonet. Jo cursed in frustration and then came running over to the bar and Sam.

“Zombies. I hate zombies!” Jo griped.

The Lieutenant had followed them confusion on his face. “What madness is this?! Is this an island disease gone foul??” His face was turned towards the carnage at the door, his eyes wide.

Sam had broken two of the wood barstools into smaller pieces with a deft crack between his strong hands and had begun to tear apart some of the bar rags. “Give Jo your guns.”

“What?! I will not.” The Lieutenant replied indignantly.

Jo perched on the bar, crouched on her toes like a jungle cat as she took aim and sent out a volley of her bigger knives. They landed in the skulls of the zombies feasting on the soldiers in the doorway, dropping them dead. Of course, four more came tumbling through the semi-blocked entry way now and others were clawing their way through the windows.

The soldiers inside the Pub were firing their rifles, crazed now, fear and panic taking them over as their shots to the zombie’s bodies did nothing to stop the fetid horde coming in. The air began to choke with rifle smoke, but it did not hinder Jo’s aim and she felled three more of the things as they came into the building.

Sam placed his loaded musket beside Jo on the bar, and then added the knives he was carrying to the pile. He went back to wrapping the broken stool wood pieces with the bar rags.

Stunned in disbelief, the Lieutenant didn’t even notice when Jo reached over and gingerly relieved him of the two pistols at his hip. He was too busy watching his soldiers efforts go to waste trying to defend themselves.

“Fallen soldiers aren’t joining the party Sam.” Jo called out over the din of rifle fire and gnashing zombies feeding.

“What….” The Lieutenant started to come back to himself, drawing his sword even as his eyes were pale with shock. “What does that mean?”

Sam tucked six of the makeshift torches under one arm, and stood up. “It means these things aren’t making more of their own.” Sam paused and lit the seventh torch, watching it flare into life. Then he smiled big at the Lieutenant. “It also means they were likely summoned by someone, and if we can find the source we can make it stop.”

The soldiers within the Pub were nearly gone, and the zombies were growing in number as more came in from outside. Jo was down to the Lieutenant’s pistols. She kicked one zombie back, her booted foot connecting brutally with its chin before she hopped off the bar to stand beside Sam. She holstered the pistols under her coat, then took a torch from Sam and lit it.

“Nice meeting you Lieutenant Maynard. Enjoy your stay in Nassau.” Sam grinned at the Lieutenant, then eased around the bar, Jo close behind. He began using the torch to fend off zombies, carving a path to the door. Jo followed in Sam’s wake, wielding her torch in a similar manner; their goal being more to keep the creatures back and off them, rather than engage the zombies directly in a fight.

Behind them, the Lieutenant followed, using his sword to cleave off zombie arms. When he lobbed off one of their heads, and it dropped, that method became his mode of attack from that point on. Sam and Jo would press a path through the zombies, and Lieutenant Maynard would follow decapitating those that came at him.

Soon the three of them were out on the street to discover Nassau drowning in chaos as clumps of zombies roamed everywhere.

 

 

 

 Dean had been basking in the decadent glow following his fourth orgasm with Castiel’s body draped solid but languid against Dean in their aftermath. They were both tangled nude and slick from sex in one of the large opulent beds upstairs in Nassau’s main brothel. Dean had paid for the room, and for some of their fragrant oils, and for a bottle of their better rums. His full intent had been on twisting himself and Castiel into as many heated positions as possible all night, and achieving as many copious orgasms as he could withstand.

With the British in Nassau, none of their pirate or hunter contacts were here. Which meant there was no way to get word to Bobby and Ellen. Dean figured their trip to Nassau was a bust but he felt it would be a shame to waste their trip ashore. So he had booked the room after dragging Castiel off. Dean was also hoping forcing his brother and Jo to spend time alone would finally work out the spark that had begun to really show between them as of late. Dean had caught both of them stealing glances at the other, and after the mermaid incident, it had increased. Dean felt they could enjoy some time alone, and he could make the best of his night in town by spending the evening enjoying carnal time with Cas.

Castiel, being angelic, had no end of stamina and thus Dean’s own recuperation time was the only thing that had held them back tonight. Or it had been, until the screaming started.

Castiel heard something first, long before Dean, and had pulled himself from Dean’s side to stand at one of the tall thin patio doors that faced the rooftops of Nassau. A moment later he was dressing hurriedly, and relaying to Dean what he could see and hear heading into the town.

A score of the dead had crawled up and were pouring into town from the large cemetery inland. The creatures had made their way into Nassau with great efficiency and were on the rampage.

It was time to get to work.

 

 

 

Sam and Jo had clamored up the side of a shop, then tracked their way along a narrow overhang to duck up onto a balcony above the storefront next door. They effectively lost Lieutenant Maynard this way, and avoided confronting the zombies. The two of them continued down the street in this manner, jumping from a second story balcony to a roof, or to an overhang. When they came to a spot that afforded a good view of the town’s main square and the streets branching off, Sam and Jo paused.

Sam drew up on tiptoe to scope the area, while Jo leaned over slightly to scrutinize the zombies.

“These are old dead mostly….” Jo poked one in the head with the flaming end of her torch. “They’re brittle and dried. All bone and parched skins… Only a few are more recently deceased.” She scowled when one zombie shambled past, the hangman’s noose still around his neck.

Sam sighed. “They’re everywhere. And I don’t see any pattern to their movements.”

Jo looked at Sam. “Diversion?”

“Diversion.” Sam nodded agreement. “But to what end?”

Jo bit her lip slightly. “Well, if I were a bad person, and I knew that this used to be a safe place for hunters as well as pirates…. I might surmise there would be a safe lock up for cursed objects here.”

“Which we both know there used to be.” Sam met Jo’s eyes, “Bobby and Rufus had one hidden beneath the barrel maker’s shop….”

“And Jack Rackham had one in the basement of the old Governor’s house.” Jo leaned casually on one foot, her torch swaying low over the heads of the zombies.  
“He did?” Sam looked surprised, and a little confused. “How do you know this?”

“Charlie told me.” Jo smirked, “Anyway, if I wanted to steal into a secured hunter cache hidden in the cellar of the recently occupied Governor’s house…. What better way to keep said Governor and his Red Coats busy than having all the dead come up out of the ground?”

“It’s as good a place to start as any.” Sam shrugged and then looked across the main square to where the Governor’s house was boarded up, and a small band of soldiers fighting furiously to defend it. “I don’t suppose Charlie gave you a way into Rackham’s vault that bypasses the front door?”

“What else do you think girls talk about?” Jo smiled playfully, “Of course she did.” She winked at Sam and began to head to the next storefront rooftop.

Sam chuckled, and followed hoping Jo didn’t see the light blush on his cheeks.

 

 

 

 

The brothel had been boarded up tight the moment the attacks began, so Dean and Castiel had to find their way out by climbing from their window, and then to the roof. They had made quick time moving from rooftop to rooftop, scoping the movement of the zombies below them on the streets. The undead didn’t appear to have a firm destination, simply wandering in search of the closest warm body to eat. Most of the citizens of Nassau seemed quick to react and able to shut themselves behind well defended doors, but the British soldiers patrolling the streets at this time of night weren’t so lucky. A few times Dean and Castiel stopped to consider if they should climb down into the streets and help the soldiers, but then they decided it would be better to find the source of the undead and stop them there.

They were making their way towards the cemetery, when Dean caught a glimpse of Sam and Jo leaping from one roof to another not a block away from them. Without a word, both the pirate Captain and the angel moved to intercept Sam and Jo.

Soon the four of them were climbing down into a narrow alleyway behind the servants’ quarters of the Governor’s house. The air was rank here, the other side of the alley where the garbage was tossed from the stately house. It seemed to help however, masking their scent from the majority of zombies loitering at the other end of the alley.

Jo lead the way, finding a small panel on the wall at the end of the row. She pushed and it popped slightly, then sunk back and slid to the side. Once it was open, she ducked in.

Castiel remained the last one to go in, handling two stray zombies that had wandered down their way. He smote them easily with his bare hands. Once Sam and Dean were safely inside, Castiel dropped the zombie corpses and then ducked in behind the brothers.

The small entry opened high on the wall of a wine cellar, and was easily shut once the four of them were inside. Once it was secured, Jo slunk between the large wine caskets stacked on the north wall until she came to where the wall was indented slightly. The indent framed the space for about four feet wide by six feet tall, and it butted against the corner where the next wall met it.

“Charlie said that Jack had a trigger mechanism here somewhere… and it would pop open this part of the wall where it recedes.” Jo gestured around the indented space on the wall.

“I don’t suppose Charlie told you what that was?” Dean raised his brows at Jo.

Jo crossed one arm over her front, rested the elbow of her other arm on it and tapped her chin. “Of course she did but….” Jo turned to look at the Winchester brothers. “Do we really need to go inside if it hasn’t been opened yet? Its heavily fitted with traps…”

“Exactly why I needed this fine young man…” A man’s voice came from behind them and that voice sent shivers down Dean’s back. “But since you four are here, you can be my fodder.”

Dean, Sam, Jo and Castiel turned just as the sound of someone’s neck snapping hit their ears. Standing back at the bottom of the steps leading down from the Governor’s house was the man Castiel and Dean had encountered in Crowley’s office in Port Royal. His skin and clothing was all dull grey except for his eyes and those were a swirled milky sickly yellow colour.

At his feet was the crumpled body of one of the British soldiers, cold and dead.

Immediately Castiel placed himself between Sam, Dean, Jo and the man with the yellow eyes. “Foul hell spawn, you will go back to the pit this instant!” Castiel’s hand clutched a blade now that had seemingly appeared from nowhere and did not look anything like his officer’s sword. It glinted with light that did not come from within the dank cellar.

The yellow-eyed man laughed. “You ridiculous thing. Look at you, the pure grace of heaven glimmers within, yet your body carries the debased stench of that pirate’s lust all over it. What can you do to me?”

Without warning, Castiel was lunging at the yellow-eyed man, his sword swinging around into his attack. The yellow-eyed man moved as quick, blocking Castiel’s sword arm and twisting, shoving Castiel down to land against the bottom of the stairs. A second later Castiel was up again, attacking once more, brining the gleaming sword low and then slugging the yellow-eyed man when he feigned to dodge the sword a second time. The two of them whirled around each other, trading blows until Castiel’s sword clattered from his hand to the floor.

“Dean!” Sam was pulling something out of one of his breast pockets and Jo was climbing up onto a wine cask attempting to get a shot off in the small space.

“It’s Azazel!” Dean shouted, then cursed inwardly as he realized the special musket with the blessed bullets were back on the Impala and not here where Dean needed them.

Castiel landed a solid blow to Azazel’s head, scoring a gash there, but then Azazel slammed Castiel to the floor with a returning blow. Shots rang out and two of Jo’s slugs hit Azazel unfailingly in the chest but the yellow-eyed demon felt no effect. Instead he reached down, grabbed Castiel by the front of his coat and shoved Castiel high up against the wall. He held one hand around the angel’s throat while the other dropped to the demon’s side. Castiel could feel the yellow-eyed demon crushing his windpipe, unable to free himself from Azazel’s grip.

Dean darted for Castiel’s dropped sword and nearly had it until a powerful unseen force swept he, Sam and Jo against the wall as well, and held them there fast.

“Settle down there children. I’m surely happy to see you here, especially you Sam. I’ll be with you in a moment….” Azazel looked over at the three held against the wall and smiled wide and awful. Then he looked back at Castiel. “But first, I need to tend to this shameful little angel here.”

“NO! DON’T!” Dean spit out. He struggled hard against the invisible force that held his body against the cold cellar wall.

Azazel squeezed Castiel’s throat tighter and it forced a choking sound out of the angel. Blood ran in rivulets along Castiel’s face as Azazel held him like a rag doll. The yellow-eyed demon smiled wider, colder, his teeth a hard rictus of bone white. “Time to go home little celestial bird….. Omni potentis Dei potestatem invoco….omni potentis Dei potestatem invoco…” Azazel’s voice began to hiss and grind out the words as Castiel’s blue eyes went wide with terror. He struggled frantically but uselessly against the demon’s hold. “Abrogo terra, hoc angelorum in obse quantum….”

Bright blue tinged light began to flicker and leak from Castiel’s mouth and eyes, and Azazel continued “Domine expuere, Domine expuere!” Castiel’s head fell back and more of the light bled out, while Azazel’s voice snarled “Unde abeo Dei per...”

“PERDERE DAEMONIUM HABES!” Sam’s voice rang out and with a twist of his wrist, he flicked something small from his hand and it hit the floor. It exploded with a shatter, and suddenly a brilliant gold light was surging through the room from it. The light burst free, shooting warm gleaming rays everywhere and bathing the cellar in the scent of roses.

Azazel screamed, threw his hands up to block his face, and it was as if the light had shoved him suddenly back. A blink later he was gone from the room.

Castiel dropped limp to the floor, and the force holding Dean, Sam and Jo prisoner vanished. They landed easily on their feet. Dean rushed to Castiel’s side, while Sam gathered up Castiel’s odd shining blade. Jo did a quick sweep of the cellar and then returned to the brother’s side.

“Cas?” Dean checked Castiel’s pulse, and his breathing. He found his angel was knocked out, but still showing signs of life. Thankfully it appeared that his wounds from the fight were gradually healing themselves.

The brothers traded a cautious look between them. Sam nodded and looked to Jo. Jo sighed and looked at the door to Jack Rackham’s hidden vault.

“I know,” Jo groaned, “We really need entrance now. We need to own whatever it was that brought Azazel here.”

Dean sat with Castiel cradled in his arms as Jo and Sam took up position next to the indented space on the wall. Jo knelt down and began to run her fingers along the back of the wine cask that was sitting right beside the space.

“Hey Sam, what was that thing you threw that sent Azazel off?” Dean asked, his eyes falling to the small shattered jar on the floor.

“Something Kevin and I made. It’s like Greek Fire…. The instructions are from that tablet he’s working on. It was supposed to incinerate a demon.” Sam peered over at Dean with a sheepish shrug. “I’m not certain what went wrong.”

“Maybe Azazel’s just powerful enough that it didn’t work on him the way you intended.” Dean suggested. “Either way, it sent him away and saved us.” Dean paused, his fingers running gently through Castiel’s hair. “We’ll need to make a lot more of those things.”

There was a soft ‘click’ sound and Jo stood up with a smile. The wall before she and Sam rolled aside, and a short dark stone lined passage opened beyond. Jo and Sam traded a look, and then Sam drew his sword and carefully stepped inside.

“Be careful Sam…” Dean called.

Sam ran his eyes along the surface of the passage floor, walls and ceiling. “I have no intention of tripping any….”

There was a loud snap, a flash of gunpowder and Jo let out a surprised yelp.

“SAM?!?”

 

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nassau at one point in history was a serious pirate base. Real pirates, Blackbeard (Edward Teach), Charles Vane, 'Calico' Jack Rackahm and Benjamin Hornigold were actual pirates that frequented there. And, Woodes Rogers was the real Governor who brought Nassau back under proper British rule. Lieutenant Maynard was also a real Naval Officer, and he was the one who beheaded Blackbeard. 
> 
> You can read all about it here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Republic_of_Pirates as well as in other sources.
> 
> I am playing fast and loose with real history timelines, but since this is an AU and not an actual historical piece, I don't feel bad about it.
> 
>  
> 
> Meanwhile, I am a HUGE fan of the show Black Sails, and it was really tempting to dip into the cross over waters in this chapter. But I had planned this fic out years ago before that show exhisted, and felt it best not to deviate from my outlines. If you are a fan of pirates, I ENCOURAGE YOU TO WATCH BLACK SAILS. It's does a wonderful job of mixing real history with a sort of pre-story of the characters from Treasure Island 40 years before the event in that book happen. And it's glorious.


	29. Chapter 29

 

 

 

 

Sam stumbled back, turning around as he came out of the stone passageway. He had his hands up over his face and eyes, and there was a fine black dusty powder covering his shoulders, head and face. Jo sat Sam down on a small cask, pulled off one of the scarves she wore and began to clean away his eyes.

“It’s just goofer dust…” Sam winced. “Harmless, just irritating.”

Jo made a disapproving sound and finished cleaning off Sam’s face. “Be more careful.” She and Sam traded a look, and Dean saw both their cheeks grow pink.

Sam stood up, his eyes cleared and gestured to the passage way, “You think you can do better Harvelle?” The smirk at the side of his mouth produced a dimple on his cheek.

Jo shoved the dirty scarf into Sam’s hand, “I know I can Winchester.” And with a smirk of her own and a raised brow, she ducked into the stone passage.

“You two flirt later. We need to get whatever is inside of that vault and get back to the ship.” Dean groused. “Who knows when Azazel will come back and without that musket we can’t hope to harm him.”

Sam scowled at his brother and then he followed Jo into the passageway. Over the next ten minutes or so, Dean could hear them speaking in low voices to each other as they worked disarming or dismantling the rest of the traps. Occasionally Dean would hear something snap, or the sound of metal clattering against stone. Usually it was followed by a laugh by Sam, or a throaty giggle from Jo. Dean took a deep breath and turned his focus to the unconscious angel resting in his lap, telling himself that if Sam or Jo were hurt, they would come back out to the cellar and let him know.

Castiel was still unconscious. Dean had him cradled by the shoulders, Castiel’s head resting against Dean’s chest. Cas had a pulse that was growing stronger each moment, so Dean calmed his worry as best as he could and waited. He kept one eye on the stairs leading up to the Governor’s house, just in case someone came down.

Roughly twenty minutes after Jo and Sam had gone down the stone passageway, they returned. Their arms were loaded with wood boxes and they set these beside Dean, then went back into the vault.

Dean leaned over to look at the wood boxes. They were about the size and shape of small cigar humidors, made of wood, and had the standard protection sigils carved into their surfaces. Each held a wax seal over the built in lock, and Dean’s brain started so run through the ways they could get all of them back onto the Impala and out from under the Governor’s nose. And hopefully before Azazel returned.

Jo returned then with three large potato sacks that had ropes on them so they could be slung over a shoulder to aid in toting them. She tested the strength of them to make sure they wouldn’t unravel, then loaded one with wood boxes. Each sack she padded with hay that was on the floor of the cellar. Once one sack was half full, she went back into the vault once more.

Sam and Jo were able to load up all three sacks, and Sam found a large leather rider’s satchel, which they filled as well.

“We can’t tell what Azazel was after, so we’re bringing as much of it as we can.” Sam thumbed back into the vault. “It’s empty now save for one chest.” Sam nodded to Castiel’s still unconscious form. “We need to get a cart. If Cas were awake we could just haul everything out.”

Dean nodded, and gently laid Castiel down on the floor. “I’ll go. Jo… wait by the small hatch out to the alley. I’ll steal a cart, park it at the end of the alley and then come and get you there.” Dean stood, “We can pass Cas through, and the loot from the vault.”

Sam looked at Dean and his brows knit with worry, “And the zombies?”

“I’ll handle it.” Dean drew his cutlass and a long dagger. Then he carefully crept up the stairs and into the Governor’s house.

 

 

 

 

At the top of the stairs was a pantry, and off of that two kitchen areas. Dean checked first to see if it was possible to slip out the servants’ exits, but those were boarded and nailed shut. With a curse under his breath, Dean slipped back through the kitchens to spy down the long hallway that connected them to the main house.

He carefully crept past small storage rooms of linens and dishware that were along the hall, and he was starting to hear bits of the fight out at the front of the house drifting through the air. He made it to where the hallway opened into a larger one leading further into the manor house, and could see a large ballroom to his right. All the windows there had been boarded up as well. Dean looked to his left to the main dining room and instantly ducked into that direction.

The main dining room’s windows had been shuttered, but not boarded up or nailed shut. The other door into the room, a set of double doors, was closed at the moment. Dean made his way to the window nearest those doors and unlatched the shutters. He carefully edged one shutter open and peered out through the closed window to see what was on the other side.

He discovered to his delight that it was a small courtyard and garden, and further up front it opened to the Governor’s stables. The jump down from the window wouldn’t be much effort, and there were no zombies in sight. Dean made quick work of the window latch and opened it wide. He climbed up onto the sill and looked out at the courtyard and garden. Seeing it was clear, he reached back inside and closed the shutter behind him. It wouldn’t be latched, but at least it wouldn’t give away that someone had passed through.

Dean dropped down lightly and silently into the courtyard, and ran in a low crouch to the decorative gate that separated the stable area from the small garden. He nudged open the little gate and looked further into the stable area.

Four stable hands were trying to calm eight spooked horses, tending to the animals in their stalls. At the opposite end from where Dean was, there was the large Governor’s carriage, but it wasn’t ready to harness the four horses it needed and there was no time for Dean to do it.

Dean took a look at the stable hands and sized them up. They appeared to be teens, lanky but none of them built like the soldiers fighting the zombies. Doubtful any of them would actually want to fight him, but you could never tell.

Then Dean looked at the gate leading out of the stable area, and took note that it opened out to the large town square where all the zombies and the soldiers were fighting. The sounds of the battle were concentrated to the right of the main stable gate, which was also the front of the Governor’s house.

Dean bit his lip. Then he sheathed his sword and dagger. He pulled three of Charlie’s smoke bombs from his bandolier. He pulled the cork from two of them and tossed them into the stable area. Quickly thick blue white smoke hissed out into the air, filling the stables and causing the already nervous horses to whinny and buck. The stable boys shouted between each other, calling out to find the fire or the source of the smoke.

With them busy, Dean clenched the last smoke bomb top in his teeth and he snuck into the stables. He opened the door to the first stall he came to, and let the horse bolt out. He did it again with the next, and it forced two of the stable hands to run after them. As he came to the third stall, he saw this one still was wearing minimal tack, the bit resting discarded over the edge of the stall. Someone had come back in a hurry and there hadn’t been time to properly tend to the horse before the attack had hit.

Dean sent a prayer of thanks up and spit the smoke bomb into one hand. With the other hand and with gentle words, he calmed the horse enough to get the bit situated, and then he lead the animal out of the stall. Sure enough, in the next stall was a small buggy cart, two wheeled and designed mainly for short distances. It would hold he and Cas, the sacks and the chest, and it would get them out to the beachhead. Working a quick as possible, Dean harnessed up the horse to the buggy.

“HEY!!” One of the stable hands was behind Dean suddenly. Dean kept one hand on the reins and slowly turned around to face the stable hand.

“Look, this doesn’t have to get ugly…” Dean threw a warning look at the young man. “We all need to get out of here and fast… the zombies….”

The teen’s eyes went wide and he took a step forward as he dragged his hat off his head. “Dean?? Dean Winchester??” The young man was about seventeen, had hazel eyes like Sam and straw colored hair.

“Listen kid, we don’t have time for…” Dean began to growl out.

“I’m not a kid! I’m your brother!!” The teen let out breathlessly, then began to rifle through his waistcoat. He pulled out a small leather map folio and began to open it. Inside were all manner of papers, letters, smashed together and flattened to fit. “I’m Adam… Milligan… Kate’s son!” He said excitedly and pulled out a bit of parchment with a drawing on it. He held it up to show Dean.

Dean blinked, stunned. The drawing was one he knew his father John had done of Dean and Sam, just before John had taken off with the Impala seven years ago. At the bottom was John’s measured handwriting with Sam and Dean’s names. Dean shoved the smoke bomb into the sash he had wrapped at his waist and took the parchment carefully from this youth. Adam.

Adam’s excited look fell at Dean’s reaction. “You didn’t know either, did you?”

“Father never told me about you.” Adam continued, “I didn’t know about you or Sam until I found these letters and other things from Father hidden in my Mother’s belongings when she died this last season.” Adam paused and then said, “I was working here for coin. I was going to book passage on a ship and try to find you and Sam….”

Dean tore his eyes away from the paper and thrust it back at Adam. “No! You need to get inland, now! Where it’s safe! We don’t have time for this!”

Shaking his head, Adam quickly packed the parchment and the other letters back into the small map folio with practiced ease. “I will not run away! You’re family…. I can help you. I’m coming with you!” There was a shout outside from one of the other stable hands and Adam leapt over to another of the stalls to bring another horse out.

Dean cursed under his breath at the weird odds of this happening, now, and here of all places. But it was clear he needed help getting the horses and cart through the town square over to Sam, Jo and Cas.

“Fine! But you do what I say, when I say it… and not otherwise!” Dean barked. “We’ll need horses for Sam and Jo… and you now.” He watched Adam a moment and prayed nothing befell the teen as they fled the city.

Adam simply nodded, and went about with the swift ease of someone handling the horses daily as he executed Dean’s orders. Soon three more horses were ready and under Adam’s control as he sat mounted.

They lead the horses and the cart out of the stables, and Dean was about to toss the last smoke bomb at the stable gate leading out to give them some cover, when a loud familiar high whistling sound met Dean’s ears.

“Canon fire?!” Dean gasped out.

He barely had time to drop the smoke bomb un-used from his hand to anchor his grip on the horse reins when there was a huge explosion, shattering the stable gate and sending debris flying.

When the debris settled a little, Dean squinted through the smoke.

A canon ball had destroyed the gate, and a small group of zombies that had been on the other side. Beyond that, the city’s chaos had become a war zone. A volley of canon fire was hitting the city and the old stone fort that protected it. Soldiers and zombies were so bloodied and crazed it was nearly impossible to tell one from the other.

Dean hopped up onto the buggy cart and tightened his hold on the reins. With a loud “H-YEAH!” he drove out into the battleground, plowing the cart and horses through the mayhem in the town square and cutting a path for Adam to follow. Another canon sang out as it soared through the air. It crashed into the center of the square and sent both zombies and soldiers to the ground. Dean drove on.

Dean hastily pulled up at the end of the tiny alleyway; gripping the horse’s leads so tight it was biting into his palms and making them bleed. “SAM!!!” Dean screamed over the sound of more canons’ hitting the fort in the background. Adam held the other horses alongside, his eyes darting with a small amount of fright at everything happening around them.

Jo was out of the alley first, loaded down with two of the filled sacks. She looked at Adam once, then Dean’s face. Dean nodded once and Jo just rolled her eyes as she loaded the sacks into the cart. She took one horse from Adam, and mounted up. Sam came running up right after, loaded down with the rest of the sacks. He dropped them into the small cart, then he bolted back down the alley again. He returned with Cas slung over a shoulder, and loaded Castiel into the cart alongside Dean.

“The chest.” Sam blurted out as he ran back a second time, a pause in the barrage of canons making his voice sound loud suddenly.

Jo was already watching the havoc erupting around them and took note of the lull in the cannon fire. “We’ll have less than two minutes as they reload and they’ll send another round….”

“What fool thinks bombarding the town with canon fire is the best way to cease a zombie attack?!” Dean growled as he finished strapping Cas into the cart beside him.

Sam came huffing back with the chest in his arms. He got it on the cart and secured it, then took the last horse from Adam. As he did, he eyed Adam oddly as Adam was now looking at Sam with open curiosity and no small amount of wonder. Sam frowned but turned his horse away. A moment later he was up on the horse and digging his knees in to steer the horse away from the alley. Adam spurred his horse to follow.

Dean came after, driving the cart as fast as it could go, with Jo covering their backs. She had a knife held between her teeth, and another three laced in between the fingers of the hand she didn’t need for the horse.

They thundered their way down the main fare towards the beach just as the next wave of canon fire came at Nassau. The bulk of them hit the fort, debilitating the canons and guns there. But stray ones still flew at the city, and several times Sam, Dean, Adam or Jo had to rear their horses around to keep from being hit with debris.

They came off the street to run up on a small boardwalk, but then that ended and Sam’s horse was running down onto the sand with Adam fast behind. Dean grit his teeth and held hard to the reins but it didn’t matter. The thinner wheels weren’t made for the soft sand and the cart ground to a halt fifteen feet off the boardwalk. Jo blew past him, racing her horse around to follow Sam.

Dean stood on the buggy footboard and was about to yell to his brother and Jo that he was stuck when another canon ball zoomed right over the beach and hit the sand near the side of the cart. The horse made an awful sound, terrified, and began to jump and thrash in the harness. A moment later the cart was spilling over on its side and the sacks and the chest were dumped into the sand. Dean went with it, jumping as he came down to land on his feet in the sand. He strained his muscles trying to get the horse under control until he saw that the animal was hurting itself on the tack in its panic. Dean’s yanked his sword out and in one brutal swipe he cut the horse free. It bucked once and then fled across the beach, dragging the reins and part of the broken cart behind it.

The beach was as much of a disaster as the town, though there were no zombies here. Wounded and dazed people staggered around trying to find shelter from the canon fire among the shanty tents along the shore.

“Dean….?”

Dean swiveled back to the cart and sheathed his sword, “Cas?”

Cas was weakly trying to sit up, and he was fumbling with the straps that Dean had used to keep him seated in the cart. He was at an odd angle at the moment with the cart on its side. Dean was beside Castiel instantly, helping free him from the straps. It took a moment and then the angel tumbled off the lopsided cart and into Dean’s arms.

“Hey…” Dean heart was thundering in his ears as quickly began looking Castiel over, searching for wounds or injury as Cas found his footing on the sand.

“Time for that later Captain…” A voice came from behind Dean and Dean’s head spun around.

Kevin was unexpectedly on the beach beside them, grabbing hold of one of the fallen sacks and lifting it easily over a shoulder. Jo was back with Adam, and Sam, and they also grabbed up as much as they could carry. The group turned and headed towards the water, to a boat beached and waiting for them. Garth stood beside it, ready to launch it back into the surf.

“Can you walk Cas??” Dean looked back to Castiel, still holding into the other man.

“Yes. My strength is returning.” Castiel looked down to the remaining sack, and the chest. He bent down and lifted the chest as if it were nothing.

Dean grinned with relief and snatched up the last sack. He and Castiel turned quickly and followed the others to the boat waiting on the beach for them. They loaded up their haul, climbed in, and they launched the boat as another volley of canon fire rained out towards Nassau from the ships seated right there by the coast.

 

  

 

If the town had been an onslaught, the waters off Nassau were pandemonium.

When Dean, Cas, Sam and Jo had entered Nassau, there had been six Royal Navy ships, two smaller ships flying under the Royal colors, several trade ships and three former pirate vessels under Governor Roger’s control. Quite an impressive array of an armada, and why Dean had parked the Impala back around behind the Salt Cay Island a mile or two off where she would be unseen.

Now Dean could have sailed her right down the middle of everything and probably go unnoticed.

One of the Royal Navy ships was missing outright, while the top of another’s main mast and sails were quickly sinking beneath the water’s surface. Another was on fire and spewing smoke heavily into the surrounding air. The remaining three Navy ships were firing back on the fort as it fired on them. The trade ships had fled and were headed off towards the horizon.

Castiel had taken on rowing duty, and Kevin steered him closer to the flaming ship so the smoke would cover them and keep them from becoming a target. As they came near it, Kevin passed out small wadded up bits of cloth and cotton to everyone in their small boat.

“Stick them in your ears…” Kevin explained and he did so himself.

Soon those in the small boat could see why.

The pirate ships, the ones that had thrown in with Governor Rogers and had been helping the Navy hunt other pirates, were overrun by the mermaids.

Many of the sea-maids were singing and dragging men who jumped over board down into the depths of the water. But the bulk of the mermaids had their talon-spiked fingers gored into the hulls of the ships and they were ripping them apart board by board. They were opening holes wide enough for them to swim in, and wide enough that soon the ships would be thoroughly scuttled.

Dean was glad of the ear blockers Kevin had brought, and thankful he couldn’t hear the men’s screams as the ships were attacked. He gripped his sword and looked for the oncoming edge of this side of the Salt Cay.

Sam on the other hand, was eyeing Adam with narrowed eyes, trying to sort out why Dean had brought this stranger, a stable hand, along. He decided that the teen had probably begged Dean to save him, and Dean went soft on the kid.

All but Castiel were startled when several of the mermaids swam up alongside their boat, and fell into formations around it as if they were an escort. Jo openly glared at the sea-maids, while Dean brought his eyes back to the nearing Salt Cay.

When the Impala came into view, Castiel poured more speed into his rowing efforts and they sluiced through the water toward their sea bound home. Soon the death and destruction in Nassau was far behind them and Dean was glad of it.

 

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness of the update. I know no one probably cares that it was late, but I still feel bad anyway.
> 
> -e


	30. Chapter 30

 

 

 

The Impala sat like a beautiful dark welcoming beacon on the water.

The Winchester family colors were flying bold and proud from her quarterdeck rigging, the huge flag sporting the symbol of a five-pointed star inside a circle that was within a flaming ring on a black field. The flag snapped in the wind as if calling out to the brother and their crew. The Impala’s dark wood gleamed in the mottled sunlight, a glossy dark contrast to the bright blue green water off the shores of the Salt Cay. The ships sails were being unfurled and made ready, and her anchors were being hoisted as the small heavily laden boat carrying her returning family pulled alongside her hull.

Castiel guided the boat to come to a rest as several rope ladders tumbled open alongside of the ship. The mermaids that had been accompanying them dove under the water and vanished. Another flat loading pallet was lowered beside the rope ladders, and those on the boat busied themselves loading the chest and the sacks onto it.

Castiel caught hold of the ropes now lowered to secure the boat itself, to lift it up for storage on the main deck of the Impala. He tied the ropes off to the boat but kept glancing back the way they had come, brow knotted with vigilance.

Kevin, Jo and the others ascended the rope ladders once the loot was loaded and it began its haul upwards onto the ship. Sam and Dean climbed up next, leaving Castiel last.

As he waited his turn, he looked down at his clothing, watching the reflective ripples from the water dance over his chest. His waistcoat had been hastily buttoned, the usually tidy scarf at his throat was askew, and his jacket was rumpled and dirty. Glimpses of his bare chest peered through where his shirt was rumpled open. His hair was mussed and ruffled on his head; the ribbon normally keeping it neat was missing.

The boat under him lurched as it began to lift up to be brought onboard, and Castiel was jerked from his examinations. He stepped to the edge of the boat, then leapt the short distance to a rope ladder and began to climb. Once at the top edge of the side rail, he swung himself up, carrying his body over to landed smoothly with his feet solid on the deck. He looked over the main deck and then stopped, eyes bright with surprise.

Their usual crew; Benny, Victor, Garth, Charlie, Tamara, Christina, Jo, and Kevin were standing at attention in formation. Behind them, the sailors previously from the East India Company that had been possessed by demons also stood information save for those hauling the boat up onto the deck to secure it in place. Sam and Dean were standing next to Castiel, their faces also surprised and curious. The former East India men were no longer under the control of demons, and they looked at Sam and Dean with unabashed respect.

Benny stepped forward, pulled his Bosun’s whistle from his pocket and piped Dean and Sam aboard. “Captains ON DECK”

Dean glanced at Sam, and Sam nodded to Dean. Then Dean stepped forward with one hand on the hilt of his sword; a firm look to his face. “Why am I not moving?!” Dean barked. “Round this Cay, head 20 degrees south, then west! Let’s haste!”

Benny repeated the orders as his job required, and the entire deck burst alive with the Impala’s now full crew moving into action. Then Benny, Tamara and Charlie came to stand in front of Dean. All were dripping wet, soaked damp with seawater.

“Take a swim?” Sam smirked and looked his fellow crewmates over.

Charlie was beaming, bright with a smile and mischievous glimmers to her grey eyes. “Quite.”

Castiel came to stand with them, his eyes narrowed slightly, “What did you three do?”

“Nothing you wouldn’t have given the chance.” Tamara let a rare smile out, her dark eyes mirroring Charlie’s. “While you were gone, we took it on ourselves to begin exorcising the East India crewmen. Figured that if they needed to get home to their families, Nassau would be a good place to drop them off.”

Benny looked directly to Dean and Sam, “Once we got the demons outta them, we gave them the usual choice. Be kicked off the ship or join the crew.” Benny smiled a little, “Nearly to a man they pledged their backs and their wills to the Winchester flag and this crew. Only a small handful asked to go.”

“But here is where it get’s interestin’” Tamara nods.

“While we are going through the exorcisms up here topside, Garth was down keeping an eye on the other three demons below. One of the women, the one who calls herself Meg, began laughing like crazy, chattering on about how we were in for it now, that Azazel was on his way and…” Benny half nodded and rolled his hand around in an ‘over and over and over’ gesture, “You get the idea. The usual nonsense from power happy villainous morons.”

“But Crowley on the other hand gets stone cold serious, and told Garth that whoever was on shore in Nassau was in danger, and kept hollering to let him go, how he wanted out of here and away because Azazel indeed was there.” Tamara continues.

“We didn’t believe, until….” Charlie nods towards the side of the ship, “The mermaids confirmed they felt Azazel’s presence.”

“So we took the boat and with the mermaids help created a small series of distractions.” Benny bit his lip and raised his brows.

“Small distractions. Uh-huh.” Dean looked pointedly at each member of his crew standing before him. “Like the zombies?”

“No! Crowley said that was Azazel ‘drawing up the dead’ to cause his own chaos.” Charlie blurt out. “We just crawled aboard one of the Navy ships while Kevin and Garth snuck into the Fort. All it took was one canon in the fort to fire on the Navy ships, and one Navy ship to fire on it’s neighboring ship and it went all cobbled pretty quickly.” Charlie shrugged, “The mermaids just did their own thing. Then they helped Benny, me and Tamara swim safe back to the Impala.”

The three crewmen just smiled and nodded, pleased with themselves.

Sam combed his fingers through his hair, “Yea but what about all those innocent lives lost? On the ships? In Nassau?”

Charlie’s smile fell, and Benny looked down at his shoes.

Only Tamara held Sam’s gaze as she said, “Them that were on the pirate ships were traitors to their own. Them met their proper fate. And the Navy men and those in Nassau? Better they meet an early grave now fighting as men then at the hands of Azazel.” With that she turned and stalked off, her smile long gone.

Castiel sighed as he watched her leave. He was about to turn to Sam and say something, when someone standing behind him at the rail of the deck cleared their throat roughly.

The group turned to find Adam, the stable hand Dean had brought with him, standing there, face pale, eyes incredulous.

“Oh crap. Right…” Dean took a deep breath and stepped closer to Adam. He met Adam’s frightened look, and answered with a calm hand to Adam’s shoulder. Then Dean turned to Castiel. “Hey Cas? Can you and Adam get the chest and those sacks brought into the War Room now? And wait there for us?”

Castiel nodded, and then reached for the sacks. He slung two over his shoulder and then set his eyes on Adam, waiting. Adam looked from Dean, to Sam, and then picked up two sacks himself and met Castiel’s eyes. Castiel gave a small nod, then lead Adam off the main deck and through the doors leading to the main cabins, the galley kitchen, and then beyond down the hall to the library area and War Room.

Once there, Castiel set his sacks down gently and then offered his hand to Adam, “I’m Castiel Novak.”

Adam’s eyes went wide, and he swallowed nervously, then took Castiel’s hand and shook it. “Adam… Milligan.” There was a short pause and then Adam said, “You’re Commander Novak from the Seraph. The Gallows Ghost of Port Royal.”

Castiel blinked and canted his head slightly, “Gallows Ghost?”

“When the Navy arrived in Nassau, all they could talk about was the price on your head, and the Winchester’s heads… about how you all were to hang in Port Royal, and how you mysteriously escaped… vanished… right under Her Majesty’s guard’s noses.” Adam took an excited step closer, “Two of the Navy men that came to the Governor’s had been there that day, when you were all supposed to be hung. They said you were like some kind of ghost, walked through your noose and set the Winchesters free.”

Castiel looked down uncomfortably, then sheepishly up at Adam, “I’m sure they were exaggerating….”

“After what I’ve seen this day Commander Novak, I don’t think so. There were zombies stalking through the streets of Nassau! Real mermaids in the waters!” Adam glanced back the way they had come before looking back at Castiel once more, “And I heard what you and my brothers were talking about with the other crewmen….”

“Did you say… brothers?”

Both Castiel and Adam turned to find Sam just then walking in through the doorway, a quizzical look on his face. A second later Dean brushed past Sam into the room carrying the last of the sacks to dump on the floor besides the others. Dean stood up and looked around at everyone staring at him now.

“What?” Dean planted his hands on his hips.

“Dean…” Sam said with a warning in the tone of his voice.

“Dean?” Adam said at the same time.

“Dean.” Castiel let his hands drop to his sides.

“Okay you know what, not until we get that chest in here and we get this loot from Jack Rackham’s stash secured. We don’t know if Azazel is still nearby and….” Dean began to head out of the room.

Sam stepped into Dean’s way, blocking him from leaving. Sam drew up to his full height, arms braced at his sides. “I’ll get the chest. You stay here and when I come back, we are talking about this.” Sam gestured to Adam, then left the room.

“Dean.” Castiel sighed, “This is family business… I’ll go down and see if I can learn anything more from the remaining….prisoners.”

“No Cas… I need you here.” Dean’s voice was clipped at first and then it softened. “I need you here Cas. You’re family now. Please… stay.”

Castiel looked up and met Dean’s gaze to find an earnestness and warmth there in Dean’s green eyes. Castiel nodded in agreement, his own expression warming to Dean. With that the tenseness in Dean’s shoulder’s relaxed somewhat, and then Sam was walking back in with the chest in his arms. It was placed with the sacks on the floor.

Dean took in a deep breath and looked at Sam. He opened his hands and arms gently towards his Sam as he spoke, “The other night one of the mermaids and I had a little talk. Remember?”

Sam nodded. “Told you about where the belt came from, how she talked to John, and about the Dutchman.” He looked at Adam now, his eyes going hopeful, “And about how we had another brother in Nassau. So you found him?”

“More like he found me.” Dean chuckled, “Sam Winchester, met Adam Milligan. Our half brother.”

Sam wiped his hand clean on the side of his hip, then extended it to Adam, “Good to meet you, finally.” The openness and gentility on Sam’s face nearly glowed.

Adam smiled as he met Sam’s gesture and Sam’s expression, shaking hands. “Real happy I found you two.” Still holding on to Sam’s hand, Adam asked, “So you aren’t pirates after all? Not truly?”

Sam’s cheeks went warm with his smile, “Pirating would probably be a safer thing to make a career of.”

“So you really want to stay with us Adam? After all you’ve seen today?” Dean raised a brow at the young man.

Adam dropped Sam’s hand and eagerly shook his head yes, “It’s still overwhelming, but if this is what Father did… fighting evil… beating back the beasts that would bring darkness… then I want to be part of that…. saving people…”

“Hunting things?” Dean questioned, frowning.

Adam nodded, eyes bright with youthful energy. “The family business.”

Dean turned his head towards Sam and they traded a knowing look. Sam nodded, his brows high on his forehead. Dean took a deep breath and half shrugged, then his frown softened out. He looked back to Adam.

“Go find Benny, our Bosun. Tell him everything you told me when we met in Nassau. He’ll fix you with a bunk. Tell him I said you’re training begins now. He’ll take it from there. And Adam?” Dean shifted his posture, his demeanor as a Captain showing through. “You’re part of this crew now and will behave as such. Pirates are equals. Equal voice, equal vote. Your share of any take we get is based on your contributions to this crew. No special treatments. And you’ll mind your Captain. Yes?”

Adam nodded with a smile, “Of course Captain!”

Dean nodded and shooed Adam out, “Okay okay… get outta here.”

Adam bolted out, excited.

Sam chuckled. “You aren’t really going to keep him on board are you?”

“Kid was good with the horses and kept his cool on the run out of Nassau, but…” Dean shook his head. “As soon as we find Bobby an’ Ellen, the kid goes with them. I don’t want him around us when we face off next with Azazel.” Dean glanced to Castiel now, concern on his face. “How are you now Cas? What did Azazel do to you?”

“I’m fine now Dean…” Castiel assured him, “Azazel was trying to pull my grace from my body, much in the same way that you pull demons from a person…. Drawing them out the vessel they inhabit with an exorcism.”

“Wait… that isn’t your body Cas?” Sam’s brows shot up.

“If you mean, did this body belong to another human being? Am I inhabiting it like demons do?” Castiel looked at the brothers. “No. I am not. Usually angels do… they need vessels much like the demons do to walk the Earth.” Castiel held up one hand gently, “But unlike demon’s they require the vessel’s consent. Angels cannot just take as demons do. I however…” Castiel paused as if searching for the right words, “There is no one in here with me other than…. Me.” He looked down over his own body slowly, “This is my body and only mine.”

Dean smirked and covered his mouth, his eyes full of something lusty and playful. Sam caught the look the same time Castiel saw it. Only Sam rolled his eyes and groaned.

“What?” Castiel asked, face innocent.

“Dean’s being a perverted lout about your body Cas. I’m ignoring you both now.” Sam shook his head and bent down to open one of the sacks, carefully removing its contents to stack on the floor beside him.

Dean winked saucily at Castiel then joined his brother in unpacking the sacks. Castiel looked at the brothers in confusion a moment more and then crouched down to join them in their task.

 

 

 

After several hours of unpacking and investigating the haul they had stolen from Captain Jack Rackham’s hidden vault, it was clear that Rackham had been very busy collecting artifacts and items with a vast array of supernatural uses. There was also a sizable amount of gold coin, a cache of rare pearls and quite a few small piles of raw gems.

On first look, even with all the artifacts and items, nothing stood out as something specific that Azazel might covet or need. With Castiel’s help they began to sort the items and artifacts, spreading them out on one of the large tables.

There were amulets, rings, bracelets and a set of leather arm bracers lanced with sharp bones. There were three compasses, two spyglasses, two sextants, a pair of scales, and a small abacus. There were scrolls and small bound books. There were also little statues of stone, a few made of wood, and one small hand sized alabaster disc. All of the pieces had sigils or runes or arcane symbols carved or etched into their surfaces.

As the sun began to set, Garth and Jo interrupted as they brought food in. Garth left his tray on the table and it was loaded with bowls of stew and bread. He stopped to ask briefly about what they were working on, and to assure Sam and Dean that Adam was settling in just fine. Then he returned to the galley.

Jo had brought in wine, a water jug and cups. She poured them all something to drink and then lingered looking at all the items without touching them. She held her own cup of wine in her hands, and just began a slow walk around the table.

Off handedly Jo said, “We moved the demons to the lowest hold to make room for the new crewmates. Adam’s bunk is down there with them….” She looked up at Sam and Dean, “S’ okay right?”

Dean nodded, not looking up from the book he was focused on. “M’hm.”

Sam however smiled warm at Jo, “Sure. He should be okay there. Unless you think he should share my cabin? The newer crew didn’t seem like they were the usual ruffians…”

Jo stopped beside Sam, leaning just a tiny bit against him. “Knowing you and Dean, he won’t be on this ship long enough. I suspect as soon as you connect with my Mom and Bobby, he’ll be sent off with them.” She raised a brow and looked at Sam over the edge of her cup.

Sam nodded and hummed the affirmative, letting his eyes wander along her fingers on the cup, then along the rim, then to her lips just at it’s edge. He licked his own lips and bent closer to her, “So you helping here now?”

Jo grinned and set her cup down, with a nod. “I’m not on watch, or due at the helm this night.” She leaned over the table, her eyes on the wood carved statues. “What are we looking for?”

Sam raked his eyes over her, then caught Castiel watching his and Jo’s interaction. Sam straightened his shoulders, snapping his eyes back to the scrolls in his hands. His cheeks flared up red and he cleared his throat.

“If you and Jo wanted to engage in further courtship rituals and flirtations Sam, I’m certain Dean and I are able to look over these items on our own for a while…” Castiel stated plainly.

Both Dean and Jo’s head swiveled around to look at Sam, who was now fidgeting with the scrolls in his hands. Sam’s jaw was tight and he didn’t look up.

“Pardon Sam, both you and Jo were showing heightened signs of attraction and arousal towards each other and I merely thought…” Castiel look back and forth between Sam and Jo, and now it was Jo’s turn to have flared rosy cheeks and to look away.

Dean erupted in laughter and nearly knocked over the bowls of stew near him.

Sam took in a deep breath, set down the scrolls and looked at Castiel with a sour face. He then reached over, took his and Jo’s bowls of stew in hand. He raised one brow at Jo in a silent question, the light in his eyes going playful and sweet. Jo nodded very dignified and slipped her arm to link with Sam’s. They both gave a proper nod to Dean and Castiel, then exited.

“Finally! I thought they would never get together. He’s had a crush on her for years…” Dean was still laughing a little as he looked at Castiel. Then he paused, looking at the angel closer. “Wait, you did that on purpose!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Castiel looked back down at the open box in his hands that held one of the stone figurines inside it. But a tiny smile inched its way along the corner’s of his mouth. “Eat your stew Dean, we have work to do.”

Dean picked up his bowl, his expression warm and happy. “Yea okay.” Then softly, “Thanks Cas.”

Castiel looked up and he couldn’t help but mirror back the look on Dean’s face. “Sam and Jo deserve some happiness.”

Dean relaxed against the table. “Yes. Yes they do.”

 

 

 

A week passed and the Impala made its way to every island pirate outpost they knew of. They picked up word of increased demon activity all over the Caribbean Sea, and they even freed a small settlement of escaped slaves from a group of demons that had taken the little village as prisoners. But so far none had heard from Bobby or Ellen, nor had anyone heard of what had happened to them.

Dean and Castiel had run into a problem with their demon prisoners as well. The woman, Ruby, hadn’t spoken once since they had left Nassau, and Meg would only taunt everyone while keeping her secrets deeply hidden. Neither was helpful in finding out about Azazel’s plans.

Crowley on the other hand, was overly chatty, doing everything he could think of to try to make the Winchesters and their crew see him as an ally eager to help them. However he had no idea what Azazel was doing and Castiel refused to trust him, so the East India man remained caged up.

On the eighth day out from Nassau, Jo moved her belongings out of her cabin and into Sam’s.

On the evening of the ninth day, Castiel found himself once again in the crow’s nest on watch: back at one of his favorite posts on the ship with the early evening breeze fluttering in his hair.

The air was balmy and warm as the sun sank low under purpled skies, the golden light melting down into rich orange and then to deep rose. Castiel leaned casually on the edge of the rail, an unneeded spyglass held loose in his fingers. With his angel-boosted sight it wasn’t needed, but Dean asked that Cas keep it handy just in case something pushed Cas’ limits. The brass it was made of was warm where his hands had held onto it, echoing the warmth from the sun on his cheeks.

Castiel sighed and skimmed the southern horizon before turning and looking east to his left. Then he turned around and skimmed the northern horizon. He was about to turn westward when something caught his eye. He looked hard to the horizon northward, then drew the spyglass up, training it on one particular spot. He pulled the spyglass down, then brought it up again to be sure. He held it there a moment, then leaned over the edge of the crow’s nest rail.

“SAILS!!!” He called loud and rough.

Below him on the deck, the crew jumped to action. Dean and Sam were running up from below, Sam making his way to the quarter deck while Dean slung and climbed, dancing with the rigging ropes as he ascended up to join Castiel.

When Dean landed with a solid thud into the crow’s nest, Castiel passed over the spyglass.

“It looks like a small armada Dean, but they aren’t Spanish ships, Royal Navy, or East India Company ships.” Castiel offered.

Dean took the spyglass and leveled it to where Castiel pointed. He took a long moment, looking hard. “I can’t tell yet. I can see forms… but I can’t make out any details.”

Castiel leaned over the rail again and called down to the group of mermaids that still kept close to the Impala. Castiel knew they had become fond of the ship and her crew, and he now asked them to see if they could glean any information on the ships headed their way. Several of them broke off from the ship and he could see them swimming fast towards the incoming ships.

When he righted himself, Dean was still looking through the spyglass. He stopped, then shoved the thing back into Castiel’s hands. “What do you see now?”

Castiel took it back and looked. After a moment, “At least fifteen ships. Maybe more. But they are all different… some Spanish, some English made. Some….Asian and some from India.”

“Are there flags? Tell me what the banners look like.” Dean bit his lip.

Castiel held the spyglass up for several long heartbeats and then said, “They all have red sails, deep rich reds sails and banners with no markings. But the one in the front is a Galley, about the same size as the Impala. White sails. Their flag isn’t flying.” Castiel lowered the spyglass. “They don’t have it raised. It could be another pirate ship… most traders and merchants would have some type of flag posted.”

Dean nodded and thought for a long moment. He looked down at his crew, moving over the deck, waiting for his orders. He looked to Sam who was with Tamara at the helm. Sam had a chart in his hands, looking it over as he spoke with Tamara.

Then Dean caught sight of Kevin just coming out of the doors to the cabins, looking around to see what was happening. A light went on in Dean’s eyes. He turned quick to grab Cas’ face with his hands before he planted a hot kiss to Castiel’s mouth.

“Red sails!” And with that Dean had launched himself over the side, sliding and gliding back down to the main deck through the rigging.

When Dean landed on deck he went into a frenzy of orders, aiming to get the Impala turned about and heading straight for the oncoming armada. The sails were let out full for speed and then Dean was leaping up the stairs to the wheel to speak to Sam and to see the chart.

Castiel watched all of this before seeing Dean break off from Sam to speak to Kevin. Instantly Kevin was at the side rail of the ship, searching the northern horizon.

And with that Castiel understood what Dean had figured out.

He brought up the spyglass again and looked at the encroaching ships and their bold blood red sails.

“It’s the Red Flag Fleet.” Castiel couldn’t believe it. “It’s Ching Shih!”

Kevin’s mother had crossed half the world to come for her son and Dean meant to meet her head on!

 

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and encouragement are always welcome!  
> Thank you for reading! =)


	31. Chapter 31

 

 

The Red Fleet was as resplendent as it was impressive. Seventeen ships in all boasted the crimson sails proudly, with the gun power to back up the spectacle. The ships held a tight formation with the heavier gun ships keeping a protective flank around the other ships in the center. One ship was larger than the others and her trimmings were shot with shimmering gold.

Riding at the front point of the fleet was the ship with the white sails. It looked very much like the Impala from how she sat in the water to the removal of her poop deck. But where the Impala had been crafted of dark glossy woods, this ship had a more russet cast. She had fewer canons as well.

It was this ship that slowed to meet the Impala when the Winchester brothers and her crew had parked their ship right in the path of the Red Flag Fleet. Dean had run up a flag of truce and the white sailed ship had answered with the same. The rest of the Red Flag Fleet held their formation but stayed back a fair distance and set down anchors.

The white sailed ship was now coming gently alongside the Impala, and both crews were poised in tense formation on their decks. Both crews tossed over grappling hooks and ropes, then laid down gang planks so the crews could traverse back and forth.

Castiel stood just behind Dean’s right shoulder. He was dressed in his usual refined tan coat, his best waistcoat buttoned up neatly, his hair brushed back and tied with the blue ribbon. His throat scarf was clean and tidy, and his hat was planted firmly on his head.

Sam and Dean were turned out in their best as well: dark dyed leather long coats, matching high boots with shining brass buttons down the sides and both wearing plain but fashionable tri-cornered hats. They were armed fully, with their cutlass and short sword as well as a compliment of muskets. On the other side of Sam, Benny was similarly outfitted.

When both ships were settled and secure, Dean stepped up onto the edge of one of the gangplanks and spoke out in a clear voice, “Captain Dean Winchester and the crew of the Impala. Who do we speak with?”

A tall man not much older than Dean stepped up on the opposite side of the same plank from the white sailed ship. He was dressed in clothing unlike Dean had ever seen before in an indigo silk cassock with a high collar, the brocade on the fabric showing hundreds of flaming birds in bright red and gold thread. The man carried his head high, and his long thick straight dark hair was pulled back into a topknot on his head, secured there with a set of long golden needles. The man looked to be of the same race as Kevin; dark eyed with high smooth cheekbones.

“Greetings Captain Winchester.” The man bowed with a small flourish, his smooth voice tinted lyrically with an accent. “I am Bohai Huan, the Voice of Ching Shih. She greets you and remembers your Father fondly. We mourn his loss and once our discussions here are completed, would ask if you would allow us to honor his memory with a gift.”

Dean raised his brows and glanced back to Sam who merely shrugged in reply. Dean looked uncomfortable and unsure, but turned back to Bohai Huan and straightened his shoulders. “Uh yea, yes… yes thank you.”

“We would like to invite you, your Quartermaster, your Bosun and your other officers to join us here on the Taiyang de Zhufu for a meal and to discuss matters.” Bohai Huan bowed and gestured back onto the white sailed ship.

“Thank you we accept.” Dean bowed awkwardly, “Uh, be right there… momentarily.”

Bohai Huan smiled congenially and withdrew back onto the white sailed ship.

Dean hopped down onto the Impala’s deck and motioned for Kevin to step forward. “So, who is that Bohai guy?”

Kevin peered around Dean at the white sailed ship once before meeting Dean’s eyes, “Bohai Huan is one of Mom’s consorts,” Dean raised his brows at that but Kevin kept talking, “She usually sends him out to talk to people first before she meets them directly. It’s an old Imperial court custom and it helps keep her upper hand in negotiations as well as keeping up her image. It’s been effective so far.” Kevin paused, “He’ll look unarmed but he’s not. If you want to wear your weapons, it won’t be an insult.”

Dean nodded, then placed a hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “You still up for the plan we discussed?”

“What plan?” Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean and Kevin.

“Yea what plan?” Sam frowned.

“My mother is going to want me to leave with her. She’ll also want the tablet back, and the silver chest. But I know what this crew is up against with the demon forces and well….” Kevin looked to Dean and then back to Sam and Castiel, “I’ve been able to help here, to do some good. I want to stay and assist with taking down Azazel. This is my world too. I should be allowed to fight for it.”

“And we need the tablet to stay with us.” Dean rested one hand on the hilt of his sword, gauging Sam and Castiel’s reactions. “Kevin and I came up with a plan to try to negotiate with Ching Shih.”

“Negotiate with one of the most ruthless pirates in the world, someone more brutal than Edward Teach? She has the Chinese Imperial Court at her mercy….” Castiel’s brows knotted down in concern.

“She’s still my mother Cas,” Kevin offered, “And right now she doesn’t know I’m with you. She thinks Crowley and the East India Company have me. She has no reason to be cross with this crew. And besides, I trust Dean.”

Sam seemed to accept that, but Castiel continued to frown.

Dean reached over and cupped Castiel’s cheek with one hand and brushed his thumb against the corner of Cas’ mouth, “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.” Then he winked and tossed out one of his most dazzling smiles before turning to the rest of the crew.

“Victor, Garth… keep your eyes on those other ships. If they get aggressive, you get this ship and her crew to safety.” Dean nodded to the two crewmen, then looked at Jo and Benny. “Ready? And remember, no mention of Kevin, the tablet, the chest or Crowley. You leave that to me.”

Benny and Jo answered with a nod and then fell into step behind Dean as he turned to leave the ship. Castiel followed after them and then Sam.

The group from the Impala set foot down on the main deck of the white ship, the Taiyang de Zhufu, to find Bohai Huan waiting for them. He greeted them with a smile and then escorted them back through two double doors under the quarterdeck. Beyond that was a wide hall lined with more doors, and another set of double doors at the other end. Those doors had leaded glass in them, and they opened up into a wide lofty Captain’s quarters.

A large table currently laid out with a large feast of food and surrounded by many chairs dominated the center of those quarters. To the left was a large wall of books and hefty storage cabinets, and to the right was the private living area for the ship’s Captain. It was hidden from view at the moment by large white curtains.

Bohai Huan came to stand behind one of the chairs along one side of the table and gestured to the rest, “Please have a seat.”

They began to sit, with Dean at the head of the table when a gruff voice barked out, “Where d’ya think you’re sittin’ boy?”

Dean looked up to see Bobby and Ellen emerging from the Captain’s private area, pushing the white curtains aside. “I’m the Captain of this ship, I get to sit at the head of the table.” Bobby playfully snarled in contrast to the huge smile on his face.

Jo was across the room with a happy shout and hugging her mother instantly, while Bobby strode over to embrace Sam and Dean each in turn.

Soon Bobby’s Bosun, Rufus joined them, as well as two more members of the Red Flag Fleet. Both of them being grizzled stalwart seamen wearing a mix of Asian and Western clothing. The men entered and Bobby greeted them heartily before everyone sat down for the meal.

“How did you come to be part of the Red Flad Fleet Bobby?” Sam asked while he piled a mound of steamed vegetables onto his plate. “And what happened to you after Cove was sacked by the Royal Navy?”

“Not much at first…” Ellen reached over to take Jo’s hand and give it a squeeze, “We hid in the caves under town overnight. The Royal Navy just left. They didn’t even touch our place.”

“We heard they retook the Seraph, and caught you boys and the crew.” Bobby shook his head, “But by the time we made it to Port Royal, y’all were long gone.”

“I was so worried…but then I heard the stories of your escape and…” Ellen looked over wide-eyed at Castiel.

“That will be a tale for another day M’ame.” Castiel was sincere and solemn.

“As for us, we headed for New Orleans to see if you made it to Missouri’s place.” Bobby sighed, “Got there only to find it in ashes.”

“She’s okay Bobby…” Dean interjected.

“I know boy! You gonna let me tell this or not?” Bobby snapped but there was no ire in it.

Dean rolled his eyes, hid his smile and dug into the roasted meat on his plate.

“Where was I?” Bobby looked around at the people at the table, “Oh right… Her place was gone but we stuck around in New Orleans a bit. Caught wind of some demon activity across the Gulf and liberated this beaut of a ship from a buncha hellspawn in Spiritu Santo Bay. Right after that we heard from Missouri. She said you were all alive and had found the Impala.”

“But then a lot of time passed an’ we ain’t heard nothin’…” Ellen’s eyes are upset now, “Heard rumors of the Impala being seen around Martinico and St. Vincent.”

Bobby reached over to take Ellen’s other hand, soothing the back of it with his thumb, “We were doing a round about search pattern of the islands to locate you, and we came across Ching Shih’s fleet. She was on her way to Port Royal to burn it down, tryin’ to get her son back from some weasel in the East India Company there.”

“When we met her, much like we are meeting with you now, we discovered we had a mutual friend with Ching Shih in you boy’s father. John.” Ellen spoke to Sam and Dean now, “And after we had a few long talks, she invited us to sail with her fleet as we looked for you.”

“Seein’ as you boys were in Port Royal and might have some info she could use.” Bobby half gruffed out, “…and then we caught word of an attack on Nassau.”

“We were in Nassau trying to get word to you.” Jo spoke up. She and Sam traded a look before Jo turned back to her mother, “But the Royal Navy was there, and then…” Jo paused, glancing at the members of the Red Flag Fleet cautiously.

Ellen patted Jo’s hand, “It’s okay. Huan, Qiangying and General Teing…. They know about our hunting. We have no secrets from the Red Flag Fleet. You can speak freely, we trust them.”

The Impala’s crew was met with a mix of serious looks that held a weighted awareness and respect from the members of the Red Flag Fleet at their table.

Jo nodded and continued, “Azazel was there. In Nassau.”

“What?!” Bobby set his cup down hard, “You saw him?!”

“Saw him, tangled with him.” Dean shook his head, “Not a good time.”

“He raised all the dead on the island and brought them down on Nassau’s doorstep. Wasn’t much we could do besides get out of there as fast as possible.” Sam added.

Bobby nodded, his frown deepening. “What was Azazel doin’ there?”

“He was after Rackham’s vault is what.” Dean spoke with his mouth full.

“What the hell would that poppin’ jay have that a demon like Azazel would want?” Bobby glowered.

“We aren’t sure yet. We took everything out of the vault and it’s on the Impala. Maybe you can help us look it over and see if anything stands out to you Bobby?” Sam looked hopeful.

“There’s a lot more to tell too… we were marooned for a good while before we got the Impala back. After our run in with the East India Company in Port Royal.” Dean looked at his cup, swirling the wine inside a moment and pointedly did not looking up when the members of the Red Flag Fleet became very still at the table.

“We had heard that you had stolen the Cerberus from its berth in Port Royal to make your escape.” Bohai Huan spoke casually, but the tightness of his fingers around his cup was unmistakable.

“We did.” Dean said just as casually, though his hold on his cup was loose and easy, “And it wrecked. Dashed on rocks thanks to a very inhospitable sea monster and a nasty storm. ‘S why we were marooned.”

Bohai Huan’s eyes went wide and worried, “Wrecked? And the cargo on board??”

Dean merely smiled and leveled a serious look directly at Bohai Huan, “That is something I think I should to discuss directly with Ching Shih herself.”

 

 

 

By the following afternoon, the Impala was ready to receive the Terror of the South China Seas, the Queen of all Pirates, Ching Shih.

An area on the main deck had been scrubbed and cleared, and covered in the best rugs and woven carpets from the Impala’s store rooms. Chairs had been placed in a semi circle, with small tables in between, and various makeshift footrests were cobbled together. A light tent made of cotton gauze was fashioned overhead to give some protection from the sun as it nimbly peeked through the clouds above. Food and drink had been prepared and three of the former East India crewmen who were musicians prepared to act as entertainment if required.

Once again the crew was dressed in their finest, all save Jo who was still with her mother aboard the Taiyang de Zhufu. Instead Bobby stood now with Castiel, Sam and Dean as Ching Shih’s entourage came onto the Impala. Bohai Huan, Qiangying, General Teing were in attendance, as well as nine others. They set foot on the Impala’s main deck toting a small chest before Ching Shih herself stepped aboard.

She was smaller of stature physically than those around her, but it did nothing to diminish her commanding and regal demeanor. She was dressed in refined but battle worthy armor, and openly carrying two swords and a bandolier of knives. The moment she had both feet on the deck, her eyes went to Tamara, Charlie and Christina standing just to the side and behind their Captain. Ching Shih gave them a slow nod of acknowledgement before she turned her gaze to Dean, Sam, Castiel and Bobby.

Bobby stepped forward first, greeting the Pirate Queen in Chinese, offering his hand to escort her to her seat. They exchanged smiles and soft words, Bobby obviously having befriended her. She asked a question to Bobby, and he gestured back to the Taiyang de Zhufu apparently answering Ching Shih’s inquiry of Ellen’s whereabouts.

Before she sat down, she stopped before Dean and Sam to give them a cordial nod.

Dean swept his hat from his head and bowed in the western courtier style before standing once more. “Welcome to the Impala, most honored and renown Ching Shih.” His most winning smile was on his face, and he didn’t hide the playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. “This is my brother Sam, our Quartermaster, Benny Lafitte our Bosun, and Castiel Novak… our Master and Commander. I, of course, am Captain Dean Winchester. Our home is your home.”

At Dean’s flourish Bobby rolled his eyes while Ching Shih merely lifted one brow. As the crew’s introductions were made, each exchanged small bows or gestures of welcome. Then all were seated with Dean and Ching Shih in the center most chairs.

“Your Father was a great asset to me when he was among my fleet Captain Winchester.” Ching Shih settled into her seat, her shoulders relaxed but her head still held high. “I offer my genuine condolences for his terrible passing, and this….”

The small chest that the Red Flag Fleet members had brought onboard was now presented to Sam and Dean. It was a foot and a half by a foot and a half square and by the look of it, forged from pure brass. It was carved with images of Chinese warriors in battle, with one deep amber gemstone set into the center of the lid. Sam carefully accepted the chest, then rested it on his knee as he lifted the lid open to where he and Dean could look inside.

Within was a mound of beautiful iridescent dark purple to charcoal colored pearls. Sam marveled at their beauty as he slowly closed the chest and set it aside.

Dean blinked for a half second in surprise, awed at such a lavish gift. He collected himself and smiled gently, “Thank you, this was very generous of you. Sam and I still miss him. And please, if you would… call me Dean.”

“As you like… Dean. Your father was essential in securing my hold over the trading routes in and out of China. I am happy to share the fruits of his labors with you.” There was a tiny up tick of the corner of Ching Shih’s mouth now, and her eyes were a bit warmer, “You may address me by my birth name, Linda Tran.” She took a breath and then said, “I understand how important family can be.”

Dean cut straight to it then, resting one hand on his knee as he leaned forward slightly. “Which is why I am petitioning for your help. As I am sure Bobby has informed you, the creature that murdered John Winchester and out mother Mary is still roaming free. My crew means to end him. And to that goal we ask your assistance.”

Linda raised one brow again, but that tiny smile did not disappear.

“And for it, I mean to make it worth your time, expenses and effort.” Dean turned to look at Castiel. They shared a look, and Castiel answered with a nod.

Castiel stood quickly as Dean continued speaking, returning to face Linda once more. “My crew and I would be honored to return some of your lost property to you… and….we have a gift for you as well.”

With that, there was the sound of a light scuffle, as Castiel manhandled a hooded and shackled person across the deck to stand before Linda Tran. Castiel forced the person to their knees and then met Linda Trans eyes. Then with one motion, he pulled the hood off the prisoner’s head and face.

“Oh bollox.”

Crowley, head and face now revealed, had sighed out the phrase. He looked bored as he rolled his eyes up to gaze some where off past the tall masts of the ship.

Linda Tran was on her feet instantly, as were the members of her entourage. Her face was furious. “You! Where is my son you pasty faced vermin eating swill?!”

“Mom….” Kevin stepped carefully into view from alongside Sam’s chair. He was dressed as the rest of the Impala crew in western attire and had blended in waiting for the right moment. He was smiling, hope bright and warm all over his face, “I’m here.”

Linda Tran turned with a gasp and for once silent moment just looked at Kevin before her eyes welled with tears. She strode quick toward her son, and he met her half way, catching each other in a loving and relieved embrace.

Bohai Huan stepped up to look down at Crowley. “And the items this guizi… stole? Where are they?” Bohai Huan spit the chinese word out in disgust.

Dean made a little nod, lifting his brows as Victor and Garth brought the silver chest out. They set it down and then stepped back. It gleamed beautifully in the dappling sunlight, still wrapped in its red cords, the knots in tact.

Linda, still holding tight to Kevin’s hand, came over with Kevin to the chest. She looked at Bohai, then Qiangying, and General Teing. With a pointed nod to Crowley, Qiangying, and General Teing stood. The two men hustled the former East India merchant to his feet. They lifted Crowley and carried him off, taking him from the Impala. The whole way Crowley bristled and swore, promising he’d return to the Impala one day and sink her. Finally he was off the ship and on his way to where ever Linda Tran felt suited to keep him.

When the noise had died down, Linda Tran looked to Castiel. “My son tells me you healed the damage that beast did to him.”

Castiel glanced to Kevin’s whole fingers now clasped in Linda’s hand. Then he looked back at Linda Tran. “Yes.”

Without another word Linda Tran embraced Castiel, hugging him tight and offering her gratitude over and over again. When she was done, she let go and praised Dean, Sam and the rest of the Impala crew for delivering Kevin to her, safe and now whole.

Dean stood, his cheeks a bit ruddy with embarrassment, “It was through fate and accident that had us cross paths with him. We did nothing more than allow him to earn his keep. And he’s been a vital member of this crew. His help recently repaid Castiel in kind in Nassau, saving my officer… my… friend…. from great suffering at the hands of the man we are hunting.”

Linda beamed proud and loving at Kevin on hearing this.

“It is why we need to ask you to allow Kevin to continue with us.” Dean held his breath, unsure if the newly reunited mother would be resistant to the idea. “To remain as part of the crew of the Impala.”

Linda Tran blinked. “But you’ve just returned him to me.”

“We are aware of that,” Dean glanced around at his crew, then looked to Kevin. “This is what I meant when I said I needed to ask for your help.”

“I don’t understand.” Linda Tran looked to Kevin now as well, her eyes fearful, apprehensive.

Kevin gently pulled his hand free from his mother, then slowly withdrew the stone tablet he had been translating from inside his coat. “The other thing Crowley took, was this tablet. I can read it now and I’ve been translating it. It’s full of knowledge about the Èmó, the Yaoguai.” He ran his fingers over the characters carved into the stone’s surface. “Crowley is one of them. As is the beast that Dean and Sam and this crew hunts. They are Demons. Evil ones.” Kevin flicked his eyes up to meet his mothers. “I need to do this. I can help them defeat Azazel and the others like him.”

“But Kevin, I need you too. I need you home…” Linda pleaded gently, laying her hands over Kevin’s hands and the tablet.

“It’s his choice.” Dean spoke up. “Kevin is his own person. If he wants to keep sailing with the Impala, we’ll have him gladly. But if he chooses to return with you, we’ll respect his decision.”

“Such noble words from someone who brings such death to all he comes in contact with.” An amused but derisive voice chuckled from where Linda Tran had previously been seated.

Everyone on the main deck startled and turned at once to find Azazel himself sitting lax and smirking in the chair. Sam, Bobby and Bohai Huan were on their feet now, hands to their weapons. Linda slid swiftly to place herself in front of Kevin, one hand clutching him by his arm behind her.

Dean reached for his musket and inwardly fumed that the special musket, the one needed to kill this son of a bitch, was once again out of Dean’s reach. He hadn’t thought it would be needed during this meeting with Kevin’s mother. He hadn’t dreamed that Azazel would even be able to find the Impala in the first place.

Azazel smiled slow and wicked at Dean. “You’re wondering how I found this charming little gathering. I can see it all over your faces.” He stood up, sinuous and confident. Abruptly Meg and Ruby appeared beside him, freed from their cages below. Meg was smug and excited, while Ruby was pleased and proud. “My girls were able to contact me just after our scuffle in Nassau.”

Azazel took one menacing step forward, towards Castiel who hadn’t moved from before and was now naturally standing between Azazel and Dean and the crew.

“Get off this ship.” Castiel met Azazel’s happy smile with a solid furious glare. Castiel’s hand was locked around the hilt of his drawn sword, having produced the bright blade out of nowhere.

“I have no intention of dancing with you again Broken Angel.” Azazel sniffed in bored way at Castiel, “I know how tainted you are. Our last encounter told me much. I know how you are falling. Sullied with base desire. But even without Dean’s lusty hands all over you, you’re still no match for me.” Before Castiel could give a rebuttal, Azazel winked out and reappeared next to Linda and Kevin. His eyes were that murky milky yellow once more. “And besides, I didn’t come here for you Angel.”

Azazel drew one finger down Kevin’s cheek. “I came here for him, and that tablet.”

“And this chest from Rackham’s vaults.” Meg was sitting on the large silver chest now, grinning, running her fingers over the deep red cords bound around it.

“And for him.” Ruby was at Sam’s side now, one hand reaching out to clutch at Sam’s arm. Sam jumped slightly and made to grab for one of the knives at his belt.

Instantly the deck of the Impala burst with shouts! “SAM!!” “KEVIN!!” “NOOO!” and other yells and screams erupted across the deck of the Impala. Musket fire exploded into the air and the sounds of swords ringing out underscored the sudden blast of chaos. There was a bright flash of light and the air was suddenly choked with thick blue tinged smoke.

Dean stumbled through the haze, trying to wave it away, to clear his vision, calling out for Sam, then for Castiel. Bobby stumbled out of the smoke to come alongside Dean, his eyes narrowed and furious.

They found Linda Tran first, and with her was Kevin. Mother and son were bent down, crouched close to the deck itself and covered in a fine blue dust. Linda had an warded amulet in her hand, and Kevin had the remains of one of his demon bombs in his. Dean helped them to their feet, but his face was panicked.

“The tablet?!”

“Azazel took it… He got hold of it before I could get the bomb off!” Kevin grabbed Dean’s arm, “But I have it all copied and he can’t read it without my translations.”

Dean nodded once, and then left mother and son to look around the deck with Bobby less than a pace behind him. Dean collided with Charlie whose eyes were distraught and wide in spite of the smoke making them water. Instinctively he took her by the shoulders as she finished coughing.

“Dean!” She gasped out, and she gripped Dean’s arms. “I saw…. Ruby took Sam!”

Dean felt his stomach drop out and his hold on Charlie’s shoulders tightened. “No….”

“Castiel saw it too, and vanished a second after.” Charlie continued, “I saw his face Dean, he meant to chase after them!”

In reaction to that Bobby let out a stream of profanity while Dean felt the rest of his heart flip over in his chest. Both Sam and Castiel, gone!

Benny found them then, pressing one hand to Dean’s shoulder, “The silver chest is gone chief. They got it.”

“Search the ship! Make sure that’s all they took!” Dean barked out, his eyes growing more fearful each second. “Check the war room!” Benny knew Dean was talking about the special musket and rushed off with a determined look in his eyes.

“Dean!” Charlie shook Dean now, taking his face into her hands and forcing him to look at her, “Dean, Cas went after them. He’ll find them and then he’ll come back and get us. And we’ll save Sam.” She paused looking deeper into Dean’s eyes. “We’ll save Sam!”

Dean sucked in a breath and nodded, letting Charlie’s words sink in to give him direction and focus. When he looked away from her he realized there was this loud high sound filling his ears. The mermaids, those that still hovered about the Impala’s hull like ducklings to their mother, were singing.

No, that wasn’t right at all. They weren’t singing.

The mermaids, they were nearly screaming! Wailing out oaths of blood and revenge. Swearing service to Dean and the crew of the Impala with promises of death and destruction to Azazel. They had sensed the demons and their escape.

Bobby heard it and his eyes went wide and surprised.

Dean felt his head spin as the smoke cleared from the main deck of his ship. His thoughts raced until they spun down to one center fixed point. Castiel had gone after Sam. Charlie was right, Cas would never give up no matter the danger to himself. Dean flicked his darkening eyes over to Bobby, then to Bobby’s ship, then beyond to the seventeen ships of the Red Flag Fleet. The mermaid’s howls of vengeance filled his ears and steeled his resolve.

He couldn’t wait for Castiel’s return. They needed to find Azazel NOW.

Dean swept his eyes over his crew now looking to him, waiting for his orders. He met their eyes and raised his voice in a command. “To your stations!”

Instantly the crew flew into their jobs with gusto. Dean turned to Bobby and a clear idea was suddenly in his head, “They took the silver chest!”

“You got a tracking spell on it Dean? Cuz other wise I don’t see how that helps!” Bobby was at a loss.

“They thought it was from Rackham’s vault. It wasn’t. It’s from Linda’s treasury.” Dean took hold of Bobby’s arm and began to drag him back to the war room where the items they had taken from Nassau waited. “They took the wrong chest!”

Dean flung open the doors to the warm room and Benny nearly jumped from where he was carefully tucking the special musket safely back into its box after making certain it hadn’t been stolen. He met Dean’s eyes as Dean rushed over to the chest they had liberated from Jack Rackham’s secret vault.

Inside it was a large stone statue of a strange creature Dean had never seen before. Benny and Bobby were right by the chest now too, looking down at the statue.

“That’s Mayan. It’s Chaahk, the Maya rain deity. The lore says his lightning axe strikes the clouds and produces thunder and rain.” Bobby reached into the chest and pulled the statue out, carefully setting it on the closest table. He felt around a moment before he found a small notch in the base. Bobby pushed it and the statue made a small soft sound of stone on stone. Finally Bobby gently raised the statue’s helmet up to reveal a secret compartment within where it held an engraved stone disc and a scroll. Bobby removed them and handed Dean the scroll. Bobby began to examine the stone disc as he turned it over in his hands.

Benny stood beside Dean as he opened the scroll as gently as he could, though his hands were shaking slightly with adrenaline. He let out a small gasp when he saw the inside of the scroll was actually a map.

“Dean, this disc is a guide of sorts….” Bobby raised his brows, “It has the instructions for a specific ritual at a sacrificial temple.”

Dean darted over to the other table where all their navigational charts were spread out. He paused for a heartbeat seeing both Sam and Castiel’s navigational notations marked here and there on the ship’s charts. He took in a deep breath to calm his thoughts, and laid down the Mayan map. It only took him a minute or two to compare the Mayan map with the Impala’s charts, narrowing in on what he was searching for. Dean scribbled out a course hastily on a piece of paper before handing it to Benny.

Benny read the course directions and turned to run out of the room. “I’ll get Tamara at the wheel. And I’ll pass this to the other ships. We can probably be there by tomorrow night if we sail hard.” He called back, and then he was gone, headed up to the quarterdeck above.

“Can you make that key work when we find the temple it belongs to?” Dean glanced up at Bobby. Bobby nodded a ‘yes’ and his eyes fell to the charts Dean was working on.

“Good,” Dean got back to work. “Because I know where Azazel will be and we’re going to meet him there!”

 

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ching Shih was a historical figure and she was simply the greatest pirate to ever live. She commanded personally 20,000 to 40,000 pirates and had a strict code of conduct that she had her fleet adhere to. She was so powerful that the Qing dynasty ruling China couldn't touch her. You can read more about her here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ching_Shih and here: http://www.ancient-origins.net/history-famous-people/ching-shih-prostitute-pirate-lord-002582
> 
> If you would like to see the Mayan statue of Chaahk you can go here: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/5f/fc/b4/5ffcb4f209474d8f572426e7fcb93752.jpg
> 
> I also apologize profusely if I misused any of the Chinese language in this chapter. I originally had a reliable friend who speaks Mandarin and was going to help me out, but then she was very busy and I had to write without her input. If the usage requires fixing or needs changed, PLEASE let me know and I will be very excited to correct my errors.
> 
> Lastly, with the holidays coming up I will try my best to update as soon as I can. However it might not be until after the 28th. Sincere apologies.  
> I hope you have a lovely end of December whatever you faith, philosophy or creed is. Peace to you!


	32. Chapter 32

  

The world was rocking, swaying, muted and clouded dark. Castiel felt wrapped in numbness, disassociated from his awareness. He felt heavy as if his body were no longer flesh but made of dense sludge. As if he were one with the earth, buried deep into the soil like a root or a seed, compacted and pressed from all sides. His body felt hampered, sluggish and weighted. Slowly, ever so slowly, Castiel was able to open his eyes, dim light easing in hazy and unclear. His hearing was muffled and dampened. He tried to raise his head and it swam and pitched inside like storm waves. He reached in deep to tap into his grace to shake off whatever it was that was keeping him wrapped in this nebulous state.

The sting of panic that surged inside him did the trick enough instead. Castiel was cut off from his grace. This wasn’t like before, when Missouri had tamped his grace down and buried his memories. Even then he could feel a low faint hum of its energy even if he didn’t know what it was. Now there was nothing. It was as if he was fully human, fallen and bereft of Heaven’s touch.

His lifted his murk filled head and squinted to try to clear his bleary vision. The light around him clarified and focused bit-by-bit as did his hearing. His head still felt weighted and thick but he forced it up to take in his surroundings.

He was on a ship, and he was bound and roped to a large wood board that was hanging from the main mast at the juncture where it met the main yard. His feet dangled at least ten feet above the deck below. The ropes and leather bindings were burned with dark blood soaked sigils and woven with engraved human bones. Castiel attempted to pull on the bindings, to see if they would give, but he found himself as weak as a newborn.

Castiel pulled in a deep breath, discovering that it helped clear his head some, but it also made him aware of the lack of his grace. That he needed to breathe like a human and he probably would bleed like a human as well.

Steeling his resolve, Castiel looked down to the deck and over the ship he was lashed to.

The ship was large, nearly as big as the Spanish Man of War had been. And this ship was crewed entirely by demonic possessed sailors, hundreds of them. They went about keeping the ship sailing at an impossible unnatural pace. The ship’s hull glided through the choppy waves as if they weren’t even there. They were in open sea and neither the Impala, nor the Red Flag Fleet, were anywhere in sight.

Looking down, Castiel could see the demon named Meg and the one named Ruby at the wheel standing beside another demonic crewman. Not far was Azazel himself, standing over the silver chest Meg had stolen from the Impala, and his face was one of frustration. At the back, beyond the chest and the wheel, they had Sam tied down against the deck rails.

Sam’s head hung limp, his hair ragged and covering his face. Castiel watched Sam a long while, hoping to see evidence that Sam still lived but Castiel was too far away to see without his grace.

He paused for a moment, retracing the events that put him here.

He remembered flying off in pursuit of Sam when Azazel and his demons had snatched Sam and the chest from the deck of the Impala, right in front of her crew and her Captain. He remembered landing on the deck of this ship, blade drawn and his wings flared ready for a fight. He remembered smiting twelve demons before Meg barked out some ugly spell and then Castiel had dropped, falling helpless to the deck.

Castiel looked back at Azazel and the silver chest now, and suddenly realized which chest they had taken. It wasn’t the one from Jack Rackham’s vault. It wasn’t the chest Azazel needed. It was the silver chest that belonged to Linda Tran, stolen originally by Crowley.

Castiel knew he needed to find out if Sam was alive still. He could fake knowledge of the chest and use it to get closer to Sam.

“HEY” Castiel croaked out, his voice raw from the effects of Meg’s spell. “HEY!”

The only one who looked up was Meg. With a small smirk she sauntered down to the base of the main mast and looked up at Castiel in wry amusement.

“So. Our hero is awake. How do you like your accommodations Angel?” Meg lifted a smug brow as she looked up at Castiel.

“I find it lacking in several respects. Your hospitality is abysmal.” Castiel stated flatly.

“That sounds rather ungrateful.” Meg half sneered and began to turn away. “You’re gonna be up there until we get where we’re going so you might as well relax.”

“I can open that chest.” Castiel bit out with a grimace.

Meg paused before she replied. “I don’t believe you.” She looked over her shoulder at Castiel.

Castiel scowled down at Meg, “Those wards and sigils were made by the Host. Crafted by Angels. They’re Enochian.”

Meg’s brows raised and she said nothing more. Instead she went back up to where Azazel pondered over the chest, and spoke to him. The demon slid his yellow sulfurous eyes up to look at Castiel, and he held Castiel’s gaze for a long moment. He said something to Meg and she nodded, and then she began barking orders to the demon crew.

Soon Castiel was lowered to the deck from where he had hung, but he was not removed from the wood board he was bound to. Nor was he brought up to the quarterdeck where Sam was. Instead the silver chest was hauled down and placed in front of Castiel.

Meg flanked one side of the chest as Azazel roamed slowly in a circle around the other side to stand close beside Castiel.

“If this is some ploy to try to upset my crew and my plans Angel, it won’t work. You’re cut off from the Host thanks to that Roman spell my lovely daughter Meg had.” Azazel gave Castiel a cold but winning grin as he poked one finger annoyingly at Castiel’s chest slowly over and over.

“I just want to know if Sam Winchester is alive.” Castiel kept his eyes straight ahead and didn’t look at the demons or the chest. He didn’t acknowledge Azazel’s touch either.

Azazel laughed. “Of course Sam is alive! He’s the star of our little show. The guest of honor! At least…” Azazel stepped into Castiel’s line of sight. “Until we unlock the gates to Lucifer’s cage. Then Sammy boy will be our Lord’s earthly vessel. Just like I planned from the start.”

Castiel paled. So this was Azazel’s end game, what he had been working towards by killing all those women, including Mary Winchester. It was all to release Lucifer from the cage and let him walk the earth.

Castiel glanced up to where Sam still sat slumped against the rails on the quarterdeck. Then he looked back down to the silver chest.

“Still going to help us open this chest Angel?” Meg purred.

“Isn’t that why you’re keeping me alive?” Castiel huffed.

Azazel clapped his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “No no no… I mean, of course it would be nice if you did open it. Save us some time and all. Be nice to have a look at the key inside before we get there.”

“Then why am I still alive?!” Castiel glared at Azazel.

Azazel chuckled and the pseudo warm and jovial look on his face hardened into something vicious. “When we reach the grand temple and the final gate to the cage that holds Lucifer, we’ll need two things. First, that chest. When we set the chest inside the temple, I can open it with a spell to retrieve The Key inside. But we’ll also need to ‘appease’ the Mayan god that guards the doors. Offer the guardian something… or someone….to keep it sated until we free Lucifer. And that’s where you’ll come in Angel.”

Castiel swallowed and in a very human response felt his pulse pick up in apprehension. “A blood sacrifice.”

“And what better sacrifice than a brother of Lucifer’s? Someone who had angelic grace thumping through their body?” Meg smiled and scrunched her nose up in excitement. “Don’t worry, I’ll release the block your grace… just in time for that Mayan god to skewer you with its hungry teeth.”

Azazel turned away then, his face pleased as he walked back up to the wheel.

Castiel felt as if his blood was on fire he was so furious and panic was starting to boil up inside him. He had to save Sam. He had to stop Azazel. He had to keep them from reaching the temple… He couldn’t fail!

He jerked and yanked hard on one arm, nearly twisting his shoulder out of its socket as he tried to squirm free of his bonds. He pulled hard, tearing one hand and forearm free. The ropes raked and burned his skin, blood and pain flaring up as he stripped his arm loose. The instant that hand was freed Castiel began to tug and shift at the other ropes to get free. His other arm was nearly loose when Meg stepped up in front of him. She pulled her own arm back and punched Castiel hard across the jaw.

So hard in fact, Castiel blacked out.

“You’re not going anywhere Angel.”

 

 

 

When Castiel came to consciousness again, he was dangling below a long pole being carried horizontally. His wrists and ankles were bound to the pole as it was toted between the shoulders of two demon sailors, and he swung over the ground as they walked. His whole body ached and throbbed with pain, his joints pulled with the weight of his own body in this position.

Castiel craned his neck to look behind to find Sam side by side with Ruby. As Sam went he seemed dazed with his eyes glassy and unfocused. Ruby led him with a gentle touch, careful to keep him from stumbling as they walked. Behind them two demons carried the silver chest.

Ahead, Azazel and Meg lead the way.

All around them a lush jungle flourished thick and dark. It rose up, towering over them verdant and heady, green boughs swaying through the air. But for all the foliage, the jungle was silent of animals and a deep thunder roiled in the distance.

Castiel shifted, the ropes holding him cutting into the flesh at his wrists and where he had stripped his skin in his failed attempt to escape before. He grimaced and tested the bindings at his ankles. Nothing budged or gave. Cursing inwardly Castiel turned his attention from his predicament to look closer at his surroundings.

They were winding their way through the jungle on a narrow dirt path with no end to the jungle on either side. The sky was overcast and grey, and the light around them was dim. It was hard to tell if it were morning or noon, or which direction they were headed.

Castiel rolled his shoulders trying to alleviate the pain from the way he was hung on the pole, and he began to pray. He closed his eyes and poured all his focus into calling out to Inias, to Samandriel. To Gabriel.

He prayed and he waited.

 

 

 

It seemed like hours to Castiel. His focus had grown hazy in his pain and made it difficult to keep track of how long the group had been walking. Finally the procession found themselves where the path widened and opened.

Before them a massive step pyramid reared up through the jungle to tower imperiously over them. Its stone was hewn from some dark rock threaded with dirty yellow veins, and imps were carved onto every surface. The pyramid rose up a hundred feet or more, looming with a stoic repetitive pattern of tall but narrow steps scored into its sides. At the base was an ominous stone slab door, and at the center of that door was a disc shaped indent.

Meg approached it and withdrew a large moon-crescent knife and a gathered plume of brown feathers. She turned and looked to the demons porting the pole Castiel was dangling from and bade them closer. The demons hoisted the pole with Castiel to Meg’s side, then brought Castiel upright and slid him free of the it but not the bindings that held him. They wrangled him to stand just in front of the stone slab door and held him there in spite of Castiel’s struggles.

And struggle he did. He flexed his elbows and sunk the center of his weight down, tried to plant his heels into the dirt to resist being dragged forward. But weakened from the trip and with his grace gone, the demons easily man handled Castiel exactly where Meg wanted him. They pressed Castiel’s cheek and chest hard to the stone slab door and forced his arms up high behind his back, nearly breaking them in the process.

With a satisfied smile, Meg drew up to Castiel’s side and flipped the knife around in her fingers.

Castiel clenched his jaw and stilled. He would not cry out if this was his last moment. He would not give them the delight of seeing him wince or make even a single sound of pain. Instead his thoughts turned to Dean, and Castiel’s heart sunk with the knowledge at how much he had failed Dean. He hadn’t freed Sam, hadn’t retrieved the chest, and hadn’t stopped the demons. And now the whole world would suffer. Castiel closed his eyes and sent one last prayer out, asking for forgiveness for his failings as he waited for Meg’s death stroke.

Meg began to chant in the Mayan language, curling the words around in her mouth with apparently glee. She swung the knife wide, and then bringing it around in a smooth arc slashed Castiel’s bicep near his shoulder where it was pressed to the stone. She cried out three times, and three times she slashed deep into Castiel’s arm. And just when Castiel was sure she would bury the knife in his neck, he felt instead the tickle of the feathers as they were swiped through his stinging wounds.

Castiel opened his eyes and watched as Meg soaked the feathers in his blood, and once they were dripping with it, she turned to the stone slab door.

Murmuring again in Mayan, she began to paint symbols and glyphs over the door’s surface in Castiel’s blood.

Then Castiel was yanked roughly back as the stone door began to slowly grind open.

With a small excited gasp, Meg strut into the opening, entering the temple and heading down the long corridor beyond the slab door.

The procession followed, Castiel dragged along even as he continued to resist.

The corridor opened many times into other chambers, but Meg bypassed them, ignoring them to head for the center of the temple. There, steps led down into a massive vaulted chamber whose walls were braced by huge stone totem pillars carved with grinning Mayan gods and demons. The bottom most figures were cupping large brazier bowls, and some of the demons took to the task of lighting them. Once that was done, the huge chamber was bathed in flickering firelight and dancing shadows. Above the totem tops, deep sconces with more carvings sat receded in and with the fires now alight it made those carvings look as if they were dancing in sharp halted movements.

In the center, a wide circular whole gaped open, rimmed by low stones and nothing else. Meg stepped up to its edge fearlessly and looked down in.

Castiel was hauled to the edge as well, and dropped with his chest on the stones and his shoulders, neck and head sticking out over the abyss.

An abyss it was. The firelight only breached it a few feet down and beyond that its darkness was unfathomable.

Sam was brought to sit gently on the ground across the opening opposite from Castiel, the well of darkness stretching some fifteen feet between them. Ruby sat beside Sam, brushing his hair off his face tenderly, holding one of Sam’s hands as if he were a child.

Azazel took up position halfway between Meg and Castiel, and Sam and Ruby. He had the chest placed beside him, and he looked to it expectantly now. The rest of the demons spread out around the chamber and many of them held guard at the entrance.

When everyone was still, Azazel spread his hands over the chest and recited the spell that would open the chest, reveal the key, and summon the Mayan god that guarded these gated doors to Lucifer’s cage. He spoke them carefully and reverently, bending over the chest as his hands hovered around the red-corded knots that bound it closed. When he was done he stepped back and….

Nothing happened.

Azazel narrowed his eyes and repeated the recitation.

Again, nothing.

The yellow eyed demon repeated it once more, forcefully, his face grim with frustration.

This time… peals of laughter rang out, echoing through the chamber. Rich, deep and very human sounding laughter.

Castiel’s laughter.

Castiel was looking at the chest and Azazel and letting hearty guffaws roll out of him.

Incensed, Azazel stalked over to Castiel, grabbed the weakened angel and hauled him up. “WHAT DID YOU DO ANGEL?!” Azazel seethed.

Limp in Azazel’s hold, Castiel mimicked the smug carefree smile he had seen Dean flaunt on many occasions. “I did nothing you ridiculous yellow eyed git. You took the wrong chest.”

Azazel blinked once after those words came out of Castiel’s mouth. Then a dark rage broke over Azazel’s face as he heaved Castiel up and slammed him hard into the floor of the chamber. He grabbed Castiel around the throat with both hands and began to furiously twist as if he would take Castiel’s head clean off his neck. Castiel choked and clawed feebly at Azazel’s hold, his feet scrabbling uselessly against the floor of the chamber.

Suddenly Meg cried out a loud clipped sound, but it was not in triumph or joy. It was a cry of horror and pain. She was teetering at the edge of the well of darkness with three red-feathered arrows sunk solidly into her abdomen. She looked up at Azazel, her dace stunned, and reached a shaking hand towards him before she swayed over and fell into the hole.

Ruby screamed as hundreds of similar arrows rained down from above, hitting many of the demons in the chamber. Their eyes flamed and burned out as if they were all lit up with an explosion born from within.

Azazel growled, dropped Castiel and lunged to the edge of the abyss. He stood looking down for Meg but could not find a trace of her. He threw his gaze up then, his eyes yellow and hot. Small metal balls began to fall from the dancing shadows above the totem columns. They hit the floor and began to crack open with a hiss. Instantly Azazel spun on his feet and ran for the exit.

Ruby began to hop to her feet and follow, but Sam held her wrist tight. She tried to pull free of his hold but he held her firm, his fingers strengthening around her hand. She gasped and looked at him as he turned his face up to her. His eyes were not dazed now. Instead he was focused and determined. He reached over with his other hand to take hold of her arm fully, trapping her.

“You’re little dosage of that drug wore off hours ago….” Sam twisted his hold on Ruby, throwing her down to the ground next to one of the small metal balls that had landed beside them. Before Ruby could say anything, the ball burst open and a flash of blue filled the air. Ruby seized up as the bombs contents did to her what it and the arrows were doing to the rest of the demons in the chamber. Her mouth froze open in a silent scream as her eyes, mouth and under her skin flared like hot coals in a fire. She jerked and shuddered and then fell dead.

Castiel staggered to his feet, snapping free of the remaining ropes on him as his angelic grace surged back into his body. His eyes flared blue white for a moment before settling back to their normal shade, and his angel blade slid home into his palm’s grip. He looked up to see Dean, the crew of the Impala and warriors from the Red Flag Fleet coming out from where they were waiting hidden high in the sconces above the totems. They were repelling and sliding down on ropes into the chamber, but Castiel couldn’t wait.

Azazel was fleeing down the corridor, headed out into the jungle.

Castiel was about to flex his grace and his wings and flicker off after Azazel when the entire temple gave a thundering shudder. Dust and dirt and sand showered down while the stone around the chamber groaned.

A low loud snarl came up from within the well of darkness as a hazy cloud of gritty black mist started to rise from its center.

Castiel stepped to the edge of the abyss and looked down.

Far below, deep from within the well, the avatar of the disturbed Mayan deity who had given their existence to safeguard this entrance to Lucifer’s cage stirred. It began to rise through the gritty fog, clawing its way towards the chamber above.

Castiel looked at Sam, “Get Dean and the others out of here!! I’ll hold it off!!”

Sam stood and began corralling the crew and the Red Flag Fleet warriors out the way Azazel had fled. But Dean refused, breaking free of Sam’s hand. He pushed past his brother to instead come to Castiel’s side. He peered over, down into the well of darkness and then looked at Castiel.

“Hello Dean.”

“Cas, you can’t stay here! You don’t need to do this!” Dean reached over, tangling his fingers into the sleeve of Castiel’s now roughed up coat. His eyes flitted over the wounds on Castiel’s arm. They were quickly knitting closed and healing before his eyes. Then he looked back up at Castiel, “C’mon! Let’s go!”

Castiel turned his head to meet Dean’s eyes and nearly couldn’t think. The love there in Dean’s eyes, pleading with Castiel to flee now, to hold from jumping into the fray with the Mayan being rising from the abyss; it was all there bright and shining. Dean tightened his hold on Castiel’s sleeve.

“Please Cas, you’re my family.” Dean begged, “I need you.”

Dean gripped the front of Castiel’s clothing with his other hand, tugging the angel close and kissing him fully, desperately. Dean deepened the kiss swiftly, nudging Castiel back away from the edge of the well of darkness by one step, then two.

Another jolt hit the temple, the ground under their feet bucking and breaking them apart from the kiss. Dean lost his grip on Castiel. The next tremor sent Dean skidding back towards the exit just as Sam rushed forward to catch him. Sam wrenched Dean back further, half dragging him out of the chamber. Sam met Castiel’s eyes a moment, and Cas looked at Sam gratefully while Dean’s face became fraught with panic.

“NO! SAM NO!” Dean fought, but the floor was sloping and rupturing, and he could gain no foothold.

“I love you Dean.” Castiel said, with one last look at Dean.

Castiel’s eyes lit up with his grace and his wings broke out behind him, dark and powerful. Castiel tore him self from watching Sam pull Dean down the corridor and turned to the edge of the fuming abyss.

Castiel launched himself in.

 

 

 

Sam used his height and strength to shove Dean, nearly tossing him bodily out and down the corridor. When they got close to the opening out into the jungle, Sam did it again, forcibly throwing Dean free of the temple. The corridor collapsed behind them and the earth around the bottom of the temple was beginning to pitch and sink.

The temple was being devoured down into the earth, layers of stone crumbling into itself in a monstrous roar.

The brothers ran.

They bolted hard and fast down the path on the tails of the fleeing Impala crew and the Red Flag Fleet warriors.

Dean, his crew, Bobby, Linda Tran and her Red Flag Fleet had arrived days before and miles down the coast from where Azazel would need to land his ship on the Cozumel coastline. Using the information he and Bobby had gleaned from the real key to the temple, they had been able to locate it a full day before Azazel’s ship had even arrived. It had been easy then to open the outer door with the real key, enter the temple chamber and lay in wait creating a trap for the demons and Azazel. Dean just hadn’t counted on the Mayan guardian being disturbed and called up when Meg had fallen into the pit.

Dean looked back once as he ran to see the temple had collapsed fully, swallowed by the ground beneath it with the jungle around it tumbling in after. That way into and out of Lucifer’s cage was now sealed forever, any evidence of its previous existence was lost utterly.

Dean couldn’t hope that Castiel had survived that.

He shoved the tears forming in his eyes away with the heels of his hands and kept running.

 

 

 

The high singing ring of sword against sword met Dean’s ears as he and Sam reached the beachhead where the rest of Azazel’s demons waited. On his own arrival, Azazel had formed them into a blockade ready to attack the Red Flag Fleet warriors and the crew of the Impala when they emerged from the jungle.

The Red Flag warriors had met the challenge full on, surprising the demons with the blessed weapons that Bobby had crafted for them. Swords engraved with the five pointed star seated inside a sun flashed and cut down the remaining demons along with a hail the red feathered arrows from the Red Flag archers. The warriors cleared a path so that the crew of the Impala could reach Azazel before he could vanish away to his ship anchored off shore.

Tamara had fired, and buried, a devils trap etched crossbow bolt deep into Azazel’s thigh. It held him from flying away from the beach and halted his ability to smoke out of his vessel. The crew circled him now as he attempted to physically overpower them, lashing out with his fists.

As Dean and Sam ran up, Azazel had decked Benny hard, sending the Bosun crumpling to the sand. Charlie and Jo took that moment to stab in with their swords, but Azazel rounded on them. The yellow-eyed demon backhanded Charlie hard and followed through with a sweeping kick that nearly caught Jo in her side.

“STAND DOWN!” Dean ordered.

The crew of the Impala backed up, but still retained their circle. Garth and Victor removed Benny out of the way, as Sam and Dean came to face Azazel.

“So… John Winchester’s whelps are here. Finally to save the day!” Azazel spat out bitterly. “Will you beg and cry like he did when I snapped his neck from my yardarm?”

The brothers said nothing nor did they flinch. Dean kept his eyes hard, his look boring into Azazel with a cold still fury. Sam pulled the special musket from Dean’s holster. He primed the gun with the special blend of gunpowder John had mixed and loaded up a heavily engraved and blessed shot into the musket’s barrel. Then Sam placed the musket into Dean’s waiting hand.

Azazel laughed. “You boys think some little slug thrower is going to do anything to ME? That little bolt your gal shot me with will be out soon…. And when it is… I’m going to rend your entire crew into wet little globs of….”

The yellow-eyed demon was cut off by the loud retort of the musket in Dean’s hands firing. Dean’s aim was true and the shot hit Azazel clean in the center of his forehead. Azazel’s body jerked back, eye wide as his head ticked into an odd angle. And then like most of the demons that day, Azazel flared up orange and hot under his skin, behind his eyes. An internal conflagration seared the demon from the inside out, burning him into oblivion.

As Azazel’s empty shell of a body hit the beach sand with a thump, the remaining demons began to scatter or flee their vessels. Their oily smoke forms gutting out into the air as the warriors shouted in triumph.

Dean let the hand holding the musket drop to his side and his body sagged. Sam carefully reached over, and as he wrapped his arm around Dean’s shoulders, Dean turned into Sam’s embrace. The brothers held each other tight, relief that their quest to find and stop Azazel was finally over. They had merited out justice to the killer of their parents.

Azazel was dead.

They had finally won.

 

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, your patience on updates is super appreciated. There is still more to come... lots still to wrap up.


	33. Chapter 33

 

Fireworks.

Huge explosions of sparking light and sound, brilliant colors of showering bright cinders rained down over the cluster of ships off the coast of Ide Mugeres. The color and light shimmered in reflection over the dark night waters, lighting them up at the surface.

The Red Flag Fleet, Bobby’s ship the Taiyang de Zhufu, and the Impala were anchored together, softly bobbing on the sea as their celebration of the day’s win was in full swing. Shouts of merriment and jovial laughter echoed out over the water, underscored by light happy music and the sounds of dancing feet against wooden decks. The party was centered on Linda Tran’s personal ship and included acrobats and jugglers from among her fleet. Wild boar had been caught on the mainland and roasted, and huge casks of rice wine and plum wine had been tapped and shared.

Everyone was enjoying the festivities with abandon save for the crew of the Impala, and each merited Castiel’s loss in their own way. They were grouped closely together with Sam and Dean at their center in solidarity and support of the brothers as they drank and ate and enjoyed the entertainment. But each one took moments to reach out to Dean and Sam in some way either by keeping the brother’s plates full or their goblets filled. Or by lending a familial touch or squeeze to a shoulder or hand. Finally Sam decided he needed to say something, which is why when the musicians took a break to feast and drink, he stood and addressed the assembled people on the deck of Linda Tran’s impressive ship.

Sam climbed to stand on a small crate, and using one of his knives he tapped his brass goblet causing the sound to ring out over the laughter. “May I speak?” He called out loudly. He addressed Linda Tran and waited a moment for her nod. “Thank you.”

Sam cleared his voice and waited for the bulk of the crewmen on Linda’s ship to give him their attention before he continued, “Today was a historic day….” Sam raised his glass as most everyone around him made sounds of agreement. “My brother and I ended a decades long family quest to see the end of the monster that had taken the lives of our parents…” Someone yelled out their approval from the crowd. “And Dean and I thank you all gratefully for the sacrifices you have made for us, and the help you have given us along this journey!”

More cheers and hurrahs, clapping and drinks raised surrounded the crew of the Impala, Dean and Sam.

“It is these sacrifices we have faced, that I would like to take a moment for now. To speak of them and mark their importance.” Sam gripped his goblet a bit tighter and took a deep breath. “First, to the Red Flag Fleet… today four of your men perished in the battle on the beach with the demon kind. We mourn their loss and are prepared to offer restitution to their families.”

A more somber salute rose up now on the ship, with Linda Tran standing to raise her gold chalice high before she drank along with her crew and her sailors. Once she took her seat Sam continued.

“To Ching Shih, for her assistance and help!” Cheers and shouts rose up from the assembled people as Sam raised his goblet again, and offered a formal bow. Linda Tran bowed her head in acknowledgement, and the Sam went on to list the various Red Flag warriors by name who had helped and those who had fallen.

“To Captain Singer, and Ellen and their crew!!” More cheers and shouts. Bobby and Ellen both raised their glasses in return to Sam.

“And to Kevin Tran, for whose tireless work on his translations was crucial to our victory, and for his tenacity and help in making the demon bombs!” Sam smiled a little for this one, meeting Kevin’s beaming smile briefly. Sam turned then, and named each of the Impala’s crew one by one, praising them for their contributions and sacrifices. For their friendship and their devotion. For their many years of loyalty and duty to he and Dean and their quest. Hearty shouts came from the crew of the Impala, none so loud as Dean as he reached out to each crewman and drew them in for a brusque hug or to ruffle their hair.

“Finally….” Sam paused, his eyes shifting towards Dean once before he addressed all the crews present, “To Castiel. Our Master and Commander who always gave his very best to this crew. His loss is felt deeply.”

“HERE! HERE!” so many voices shouted with agreement, but none louder than the crew of the Impala.

Except Dean, who raised his glass but kept his eyes low and said nothing.

When Sam came down off the crate and the music started back up, Dean gave his brother a weak smile and passed Sam his mostly empty glass. He gave a reassuring pat to Sam’s arm and took a moment to say good night to his crew. Sam watched as Dean excused himself to Bobby and Ellen, and then said his polite good nights to Linda Tran and her officers. Then Dean strode across the deck to walk the gangplank over onto the quieter Impala.

Sam watched Dean meld into the shadows, disappearing from view.

“He’ll need to be alone tonight.” Jo came to stand beside Sam, her eyes held on the Impala as well. “He has the right to grieve.”

Sam nodded in agreement, his face sad. He looped an arm around Jo, pulled her close to kiss the top of her head before he said, “Yes… I just….” Sam sighed heavily.

“We all grew fond of Cas.” Jo sniggled in closer, “But Dean…. We all could see there was something more there.”

Sam hummed in agreement. He knew for Dean this was more than losing a friend or a crewmate. He knew Dean would not do anything dire, but Sam also knew his brother would not recover from this easily. Sam drew Jo in close and closed his eyes. For tonight though, he would give Dean his time alone.

 

 

 

 

Dean came aboard the Impala and sent the skeleton crew still there over to Linda Tran’s ship for the party. They had been former East India company men, and knew they had duties to the ship before they celebrated. But Dean released them and sent them off. Partly because he wanted them to enjoy themselves, but mainly because he wanted to be alone on his ship with his own inner struggles tonight.

Getting through the pleasantries and the party had been hard.

Every time Bobby had leaned over to plant a smooch on Ellen’s cheek, or when Benny had curled Christina into a bear hug, or any other romantic affection was shown by anyone else it had made Dean’s insides sour. He didn’t begrudge them, but it was a sharp sting of a reminder that Castiel was not there. In fact nearly every turn of the celebration was like a cold knife under Dean’s skin to call out that Castiel was not there.  
So many times at the beginning of the party Dean had turned to where he usually found Castiel, right up close and just behind Dean’s right. And every time Castiel wasn’t there it sent a shock through Dean. Now as Dean walked into the food and supply storage below deck, he realized that Castiel’s absence didn’t feel real. It was as if deep down Dean just expected to turn around to find Cas just standing there, his head tilted in curious confusion and his mouth formed in a small ‘Oh’.

Dean found a crate of rum bottles and liberated two of them. Then paused, hucked one under an arm and picked up a third. He took an empty sack hanging on the wall and wrapped up the bottles with it. Then he slung it over his back and headed topside.

Minutes later Dean was climbing up the rigging, higher and higher into the masts to finally take his place in the crow’s nest. He took a moment to survey the ocean around the cluster of gathered ships and to note that the fireworks had ceased.

Below around the waters of the Impala, the mermaids were no longer there. Dean wasn’t sure when they had left, or why. Maybe they felt Castiel’s loss too, and had left because Cas was gone. Dean felt a hot prick of tears at the corners of his eyes, but he pressed them away with his fingers quickly.

He took one last look at the calm ocean and the clear night around he and his ship before he settled down inside the crow’s nest with the blanket kept there. He unpacked his bottles of rum, and pulled the cork free on the first of them. Dean swilled down a long pull from the bottle and looked up.

Thousands of stars glittered overhead in the clear air just like they had every night prior. As if tonight was no different than any other night before it. But after a few more gulps from the rum bottle, the stars’ light blurred heavily by the tears forming in Dean’s eyes.

 

 

 

 

The roar of noise filling Castiel’s ears abruptly ceased.

When his senses came back to him, he found himself laying chest down on hard packed dusty earth. His face was to the side, cheek to the ground while his fully corporeal wings were draped awkwardly over him.

Castiel shifted, and sat up, dragging the wings around to shift behind him. Wherever he was it was night, the deepness of shadow formed by a wash of starlight overhead. He took a moment to assess himself, and found that his grace was fully intact and accessible, and his body though dusty was unharmed. Carefully Castiel got to his feet and looked around more.

He was standing in a rocky desert somewhere, high jutting bluffs rising near and far. Some scrub like brush and a few meager frail trees seemed to be his only company. If he had guessed, he would have said he was somewhere in Australia’s vast wilderness. But there were no animals or birds here. On closer inspection, the stars were not ordered how they usually were either. Castiel stretched out his grace a bit and discovered he wasn’t on the Earth at all.

Well, not really. He was in some kind of pocket world just beyond God’s primary creation. It wasn’t someone’s heaven, but it wasn’t hell or purgatory either. With a sigh Castiel began to walk. Wherever he was, eventually he would discover something that would give him clues to how he had arrived here.

He had walked a fair way when it came to him, but not in any sort of clue from the land itself.

There on the edge of one of the bluffs stood a lone thin figure. The person stood on one leg, the other drawn up so the flat of their foot rested on the inside of their knee. Their balance supported by a tall willowy pole in their hands. They were silhouetted by the glow of firelight coming from behind the figure but beyond Castiel’s angle of sight. The figure extended a hand to beckon Castiel up, and then turned and walked further back onto the bluff towards the light source.

Castiel huffed with a small bit of impatience, and walked to the base of the bluff. Once there he began to climb. Hand over hand finding holds to grip to pull himself up the rough side of the bluff. It was steep vertical face that towered taller than the Impala’s highest masts. And it was slow going. Castiel found while his grace was available to him, he was for some reason cut off from flight. This meant that he had to haul the weight of his wings up as well. By the time he reached the top edge of the bluff, he had exerted himself with great effort.

He paused to stand at the edge of the bluff and look back over the dark land he had just walked through. For a moment Castiel smelled the sea, and rum, and his chest ached with the pain of unbearable loss.

Castiel was snapped from his thoughts by the crackle of fire. He turned around to find just that, in the form of a healthy bonfire flickering at the center of the top of the bluff. He turned then and approached to find four figures seated casually around it.

The figure he had seen at the top of the bluff was there, seated cross-legged on the ground, one arm curled around their willowy pole as their eyes were set looking at the fire. It was a man, older, skin sun darkened but healthy. His limbs were wiry and his body was dressed in a gauzy cotton tunic. His head was bereft of hair and his eyes were clear and dark.

Next to him sat another man, bigger and built like a warrior. His nose was large and proud, his skin the color of the earth, his eyes and hair jet black and shining. He was dressed in red and green fabrics with hammered gold adornments all over. The ornament’s designs were echoed all over the large gold crown that rested firm over his head and brow. He took looked only to the flames of the fire.

Castiel looked to the next person around the fire and let out a small gasp.

“Missouri….”

She stood then, dressed exactly as he had seen her in his dreams in the white gown with the bright star at her forehead. She came to Castiel with warm eyes and a gentle smile. “Castiel….” She took his hand and coaxed him closer to join the group.

“Where… how….what is happening?” The questions tumbled from Castiel as they reached the edge of the bonfire’s warmth.

“Hold your horses there little brother.” The last person next to the fire looked up with a sly smile and glint in his golden eyes.

“Gabriel?!”

Missouri brought Castiel to sit between her and Gabriel on large root knots that swelled up from the dry ground beside the fire. Once Castiel was seated with them, Missouri kept her hand clasped with Castiel’s as if offering comfort.

“Where are we?” Castiel looked at the four, and then he realized the fire was not consuming the logs and wood it had been built on.

“We are temporary guests of our host, Allambee.” Missouri gestured to the older man than had guided Castiel to the top of the bluff and the fire, the one with the willowy pole. “This is where he goes when he has a dream quest. We are inside his dream.”

Allambee looked up at Castiel then, and Castiel gave a respectful nod before Allambee’s attention when back to the fire.

“We needed a neutral place where we could talk with you before your next step Castiel.” Gabriel leaned on one arm, stretching out his legs sideways. He wasn’t wearing the usual foppish fancy attire Castiel had seen him in last. Instead Gabriel was wearing simple cotton tan trousers of some sort that was adorned with odd pockets and rivets, as well as a shirt with an odd style of collar. The shirt was a strange tartan plaid Castiel had never seen, and over it Gabriel wore a thicker cotton jacket also with odd pockets on it. Gabriel pulled a small thing from one of those pockets. It was a thin white paper stick with a ball on one end that was wrapped in brightly colored paper. Gabriel pulled the paper free to uncover a confection of a sphere made of red dyed sugar. “And we needed to sort things out with Chaahk here.” Gabriel gestured to the other man adorned in gold with the shining black hair and eyes. Then he popped the confectionary ball into his mouth, his fingers still holding the paper stick.

Chaahk stirred then and raised his eyes to Castiel. When he spoke, his voice came out sounding like rumbles of distant thunder and Castiel recognized him then as the Mayan guardian that had been protecting the temple.

“Chaahk has watched over that entry into Lucifer’s cage for a millennia or more. But with what happened today, he’s free now to join his brothers and sisters, and his people, in their lands.” Missouri said softly as she and Chaahk’s eyes met across the fire.

“But who will guard the entry now?” Castiel looked alarmed and his voice came out small.

“Nobody. No one needs to. It’s sealed completely now. No longer an option or a threat.” Gabriel pulled the candy from his lips and winked at Castiel. “Nice work there bro.”

“But how?” Castiel asked, his attention now fully on Chaahk.

“You did it Child of Heaven.” Missouri squeezed Castiel’s hand, “When you used your will to hold back Chaahk…. Instead you brought the temple down around you with your grace. And you had this with you.” Missouri reached back behind her, between her and Castiel.

Sitting on the earth behind them and glimmering with reflections from the fire, was the silver chest: once owned by Linda Tran, then stolen by Crowley, and then taken by the demon Meg. It was unscathed and it’s rich red silk cords and knots remained tied and sealed.

“That chest is, well… was… mine.” Gabriel shrugged. “Made it a long time ago with a bunch of heavenly artifacts like my horn and that staff Noah used and my other horn and some other things…” Gabriel shifted to sit properly. “And yes inside are a bunch of peaches that were grown in the Garden… In the Axis Mundi. Blah blah blah blah blah….. But it holds a lot of heavenly power and so….”

“The holy power of the chest is solid and sound. Combined with your will and your grace, you were able to destroy the temple and seal forever that entry to Lucifer’s cage.” Missouri turned back to Castiel.

Chaahk stood then and looked at Castiel. He made several arm and hand gestures, murmuring again with the sounds of distant storms. He was obviously thanking Castiel.

Castiel stood and bowed, curling his wings low and close in respect. When he stood up again, Chaahk was gone.

“Well, that takes care of that.” Gabriel stood up, and came to stand beside Castiel. “Like I said, good work Castiel. Keep the vessel I formed for ya. It’s an original like mine, not some poor sap of a human being used as a meat suit.” He patted Castiel firmly on the shoulder with the hand not holding the candy. “See you around heaven in a few millennia I guess. If anyone asks, you’ve never seen me.”

With a wink Gabriel was gone and so was the silver chest with the Peaches of Heaven.

Castiel wings drooped with a sigh before he turned to Missouri.

She stood up slow and graceful, her cheeks rosy and her eyes echoing the power of her inner nature.

“You’ve done well Child of Heaven. The Host will be excited for your arrival I’m sure. Many deities and pantheons will remember your name and they will sing of this day Castiel. Be well and may the light continue to bless you.” Like a breeze from the ocean she whisked away, the fain scent of the sea lingering in her wake.

Castiel felt a creeping dread begin to rise inside him, “The Host? Am I to return to Heaven now?”

Allambee stood and paused a moment before raising his eyes to Castiel. He lifted one finger and pointed it skyward while nodding slowly in the affirmative.

Castiel took a step back away from the fire. “But…” The thought of returning to heaven, to rejoin the Host and his fellow angels was the right course of action but “That feels wrong.”

Allambee frowned slightly, not in disapproval but in curiosity. He gestured to where Gabriel had been sitting, and then to where Missouri had been as if to reaffirm what they had said. Then he pointed to Castiel’s wings.

Castiel stepped back once again, hiding his wings behind him as much as possible. “I know what Gabriel and Missouri said. I know…. I’m an angel not a man.”

Allambee just held his gaze on Castiel and didn’t move.

Dejected, Castiel looked down at his hands. “I once lived as a man, and dreamt of things calling me to be an angel. And I was needed as an angel many times. To free the Impala. To help the Winchesters. To save Sam….” Castiel’s voice grew soft and then broke. “To save Dean.”

Castiel closed his hands tightly together and then held them close to his chest, over his heart. “Dean…” His entire being longed and ached for Dean. It reverberated through him in a way that defied the pull of heaven and the call of the host. To not to return to Dean’s side felt painful. As if Castiel’s essence was attuned to Dean in way that was natural and right.

However with Azazel defeated, Castiel’s mission was completed. His return to heaven would be required and expected. He slowly uncurled his hands and resigned himself to waiting the years as Dean lead a long full life. He would wait patiently for Dean in heaven, and when Dean’s time came to come and spend his days there, Castiel would watch over he and Sam. He would be a dutiful angel even as he felt his heart break.

Castiel trembled. “I am an angel, not a man.” His wings had never felt heavier.

The sound of feet shifting made Castiel open his eyes and look over at Allambee. The man was now gripping his willowy pole tightly while the other hand pulled a leather pouch from his waist. Allambee shook open the pouch and poured its powered contents over the fire.

Instantly the fire leapt up, swirling with blue and green flames before settling back into their orange and golden glow. Allambee shifted his pole to the outside of the circle around the fire. He took a step and then…

He began to dance.

A foot down and then a half hop, then a step and a shuffled shift from foot to foot. Then another hop and a full turn around on the ball of one foot. Another shuffled two steps, then a hop. He repeated the pattern as he made his way around the fire. One hand holding his pole and tapping it to the ground as he hopped, the other hand lifted open palmed in the air. Allambee kept his eyes closed as he whispered rhythmic words.

He kept dancing.

And soon others joined in his dance.

A man wearing a wolf pelt over his head, his feet wrapped in dear skins seemingly faded in and fell into step just in front of Allambee. Two teen girls with chalk powder smeared over their skin and thick curly hair, seeds threaded around their wrists and ankles also came out of the air and joined the dance. A bulky man with almond skin, bones in his hair and sharp black tattoos on his skin brushed past Castiel to fall into step with the others. A pale freckled woman with an ample body and a riot of red hair, twigs and flowers wreathed on her head stepped in next. After her came another, and then another, until the fire was ringed with different people of different cultures all falling into step with Allambee.

As their feet rose and fell, tamping against the dry earth, Castiel began to feel the rhythm of it vibrate up through his legs. The cadence echoed the sound of drums that began to beat louder and louder coming from the very air itself.

Everything fell into the same thrum started by Allambee.

A shake of a rattle and someone cried out in the joy of the dance. Someone spit into their hand and then breathed across their palm. A flash of a smile, the shadow of bodies flickering across the ground while the sounds of it all swelled. The beat throbbed and surged, jumping up through Castiel’s body to meet his heartbeat. It tugged and pulled, bumped and pulsed until it was the only thing Castiel could feel. It washed against him like the tide, ebbing and flowing and drawing him along until he found himself in line, dancing like the rest.

Castiel’s feet rose and fell, hopped and shuffled, twisted and turned. His eyes clouded over as he gave himself into the rhythm, everything becoming warm and hazy. His heart beat harder now, pumping with the same stomp of feet and the sound of the drums. He turned and his breath came in and out of his lungs in a rush. He hopped again and his wings seemed to fade away from his body making him feel buoyant and light. He threw himself into the primal essence of the dance and began to sweat.

The beat picked up now, harder and deeper. The dance movements less restrained, wilder. Sharper.

Castiel whirled around the fire, bending then snapping his arms high over his head. He tasted the salt of his sweat when he licked his lip and his thoughts flooded with the memory of the taste of Dean’s kisses. He landed from a jump with his hands ghosting along his thighs and his mind was taken over with more thoughts of Dean. Moving with Dean, holding Dean, laughing with Dean. Being wrapped close to Dean, breathing Dean’s air.

Castiel’s body tingled and his skin felt electrified. The more he thought of Dean the more the dance overtook him and the more his body stretched, pulsed, breathed, sweat. Soon Castiel couldn’t tell where he ended and the dance began, where his heartbeat paused and the drums took over. His body was soaked and he felt more alive and real than ever before.

The sounds built and grew; the energy spiked and swallowed Castiel. And when the drums reached a crescendo, Castiel leapt up with an elated shout.

When he landed, his legs gave out under him and he stumbled to the ground on his knees.

The drums and the dancers and the rhythm were silent. Allambee and the fire were gone. It was all gone.

He was kneeling in wet sand, at night on a beach somewhere with the tide merrily lapping at the shoreline.

Castiel scrabbled to his feet and had to hold still a moment as his head went dizzy. He blinked and his hands flew to his chest, splayed over his heart in shock.

His grace was gone.

He was fully human, and within him he felt the beat of a human heart and the stirring shift of a human soul.

His soul.

He swung his gaze skyward into the night and then all around the beach, the water and the jungle behind him. He was alive and human and not in heaven and how was this possible….

The dance?

Had Allambee and the others dreamed him human and somehow it had become real? Was that possible?

The only answer that came was the sound of a sea gull’s cry and the waves bubbling at the shore.

It didn’t matter. All that matter now was….

“Dean!” Castiel looked around and a slow awareness overtook him. He knew this beach. It was the same one he had found himself after the Cerberus had been wrecked by the Leviathan. He was back on the island near The Skull's Maw trench. Castiel squinted off the coast and there in the distance he could see the skeletal leftovers of the Cerberus still impaled on the rocks. An idea came to him and Castiel raced into the surf.

Castiel dove into the water and swam hard towards the remains of the Cerberus. 

 

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The experience that Castiel has inside the dream place during the dance is based on this song, and I lifted one line of lyrics and used it in the description:
> 
>  
> 
> [Peter Gabriel - The Rhythm of the Heat](https://youtu.be/N_qs5iThEUc)


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Dean has a panic attack just at the end of the first section before the break. I didn't want to blindside anyone with it, and the reasons for it are clear in the beginning of the chapter. If you need a more detailed explanation, one is provided in the end notes.

 

 

Dean pulled his hand down his face slowly, fingers heavy against his skin. He let it flop listlessly away from his side and it caused the ratty rope hammock he was lying in to sway. His skin was greasy, hair oily and matted to his head. And his clothing was rank and stale. He had been lying there for days, maybe weeks. He wasn’t sure because down here in the lower hold the daylight stayed out. He was below the water line, and the ocean pressing to the other side of the Impala’s hull muffled most sounds. His sense of time down here had been suspect in the first place: he had crumpled into the hammock one night in a deep drunken fit and passed out. He had just never bothered to get up again, even when the rum bottle in his hand was empty and dry.

He consoled himself with the knowledge that for three days after the Temple was destroyed he had functioned. He had said farewell to Bobby and Ellen, sent Adam Milligan his half–brother off with them. Then he’d seen their ship off and promised to meet up with them in a few months to help rebuild the Cove settlement that had been ransacked by the Royal Navy all those months ago. After that Dean had bargained ruthlessly with Chin Shih, Linda Tran, to keep Kevin aboard with them on the Impala. He knew Kevin wanted to stay having found a place with the crew, and so he and Sam had traded off most of the contents of Jack Rackham’s plundered vault as well as a few rare items that John Winchester had squirreled away. It had all been worth it to see the elation on Kevin’s face when his mother relented and gave her consent for him to stay. They had parted with the Red Flag Fleet and turned towards open waters.

Once the Fleet was no longer in sight on the horizon, Dean had gathered up all the rum and whiskey he could carry and took to stumbling through the lower hold. He had not been topside since.

Every so often Garth would come and find Dean. He would bring a simple plate of bread and cheese, or dried salty meats. Sometimes he’d bring a jug of fresh water and an apple. Garth wouldn’t say much; just gently coax Dean into eating while he quietly withstood any foul moods Dean lashed out with. Sam came down twice, watched Dean with sad eyes and then left to return to his duties on the ship.

Dean scratched lazily at his armpit, making the hammock sway once more. He began to wonder if he could just stay there forever and rot into the ropes, melt into putrescence into the floorboards. Would he keep sinking, down through the wood, into the sea? Would his soul find the dark places where John had gone to meet with the Flying Dutchman? Or could this be hell already, this cold creaking dark place void of the warm firm loving touch of….

“Winchester!”

Dean cracked a murky eye open to find Charlie, Jo, Benny, and Sam standing over him next to the hammock. Jo was leaning close, her face drawn up in disgust at Dean’s stench. Charlie’s eye was twitching, Benny was cracking his knuckles and Sam looked… well Sam looked down right pissed off.

“We can do this the hard way or….” Jo grimaced, “You can be a fucking adult and get your ass up right now.”

Dean let out a weak huff and closed his eyes turning his head away.

“Want ya t’know brutha…” Benny sounded resolved; “I’m not takin’ pleasure in any of this.”

Dean was about to toss out a retort but he never had the chance. He was suddenly and violent assaulted by the group, flipped out of the hammock unceremoniously and laid hands on by all present. They hoisted him up, not standing for any resistance from Dean. They hauled him bodily against his will and against his struggling to carry him up one level where a huge wood cask had been halved and filled with hot soapy water. They heaved him into it with a loud splash, and then began to pull his clothing off of him.

In short work Dean was doused in the bath and naked, then set upon by all of them with scrubbing sponges and washing cloths. Sam dunked him mercilessly and repeatedly as he vigorously washed Dean’s hair. Dean coughed and sputtered and anytime he made a squeak of protest Jo would shove a washrag into his mouth to scrub at his teeth.

Once Dean was thoroughly cleaned, he was pulled out and wrapped in thick soft saffron robes made of cotton. He stood there blinking and swaying a moment as Charlie shoved a steaming hot mug of tea into his hands.

“M…. mutiny.” Dean mumbled out, but sipped the tea anyway.

“Tamara was for keel hauling you.” Sam raised his brows and placed a warm hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“We need our Captain.” Charlie said plainly.

“And yes, we know…. We get it. We understand what you lost.” Jo said softly. “We lost him too. But we don’t want to lose our Captain as well.”

Dean felt a sting in his eyes where tears should come but couldn’t because he was so dehydrated. He nodded in acquiescence, then looked gratefully at each one of them.

“We aren’t expecting you to take on your full duties this instant, but Dean,” Sam squeezed his hold on Dean’s shoulder tightly, “We’d be damned if we were going to watch you slowly waste away down there.”

Dean swallowed hard, too filled with all the emotions he had been shoving down and numbing while he had hidden in the lowest hold.

“I bet a good sleep in a real bed and a hot meal will help….” Charlie began to nudge Dean towards the steps up to the next level, and then beyond to the main deck. Where Dean’s leg wobbled, Benny was at Dean’s other side to keep up steady.

“Bed?” Dean balked a little but kept moving and shook his head. He couldn’t sleep in his cabin, in his bed, in sheets that carried Cas’ scent. Sheets and a bed that echoed Cas with out his warmth there.

“My old bed actually.” Jo flanked Dean as they guided him up and out of the hold. “I’ve moved out of my old cabin.”

Dean frowned, “Where are you sleeping then?”

Sam paused a long while then coughed nervously, “Uhm, in my cabin. With me.” Then he glanced around, with a half shrug. Jo looked away to hide her blush. Now wasn’t the time to discuss this with Dean.

They had Dean up at the edge of the opening out onto the main deck by now, and he suddenly began to shove back a little, panic in his eyes. Jo and Sam? Together? What if something happened to one of them? Then the other would know, would feel the horror and the emptiness and the despair that clawed and tore inside Dean since Castiel’s loss. They would know what it felt like to have someone torn from them. They would be hurt, heartbroken. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t let that happen to them, he had to do something, protect them, keep them safe…. Keep them all safe….

Dean’s breathing went fast, cold and shallow as he twisted between his crewmates, his friends, his family. His loved ones! They were all at risk, all of them at risk of such excruciating pain. He had to keep them safe. He had wasted all that time in the hold when they needed him up here to stave off all the awful things that could happen to them! He had to keep them safe! He was their Captain and he had to protect them!

His heart began to race and his feet floundered under him on the deck. His knees buckled and if not for Sam and Benny, Dean would have collapsed onto the deck.

“Dean!”

Sam’s frightened face came into Dean’s view a half second before Dean’s world twisted down into a dark tunnel and he blacked out.

 

 

When Dean finally submerged from the depths of his black out, he was wrapped in blankets in Jo’s former cabin, and Garth was dozing in a chair nearby. Dean’s head hurt, and his stomach was raging with hunger. He slowly sat up and saw a carafe of water and a cup on the bedside table. He reached for it with trembling fingers and knocked the cup off onto the floor.

Garth woke immediately, scooped the cup and with a very Garth-like smile, poured Dean some water.

“Hey, how ya feeling?” Garth handed Dean the cup and helped Dean steady his hands until he could get his fingers around it securely.

“Better?” Dean croaked. “Hungry.”

Garth nodded and went to the door. “I’ll let Sam know you’re up and I’ll bring you some of my stew.” With a big smile Garth was out the door and gone.

Dean felt weak and odd. Unsure of what had happened to him. He still felt Castiel’s loss like a part of his chest had been gouged from him, but mostly he was just tired.

There was a gentle knock at the opened door, and Dean looked up to find Sam there. Without a word Sam came in, shut the door and sat down on the bed facing Dean.

“Status?” Dean finished the water slowly.

“Half a day out to Martinique…” Sam kept his eyes on his brother, “Or Saint Lucia. I was waiting to see how much of the French navy was ported at either. We need supplies, and we need to let the crew feel some land under their feet.”

“French territory’s better ‘n English or Spanish right now.” Dean nodded. “Run the Dutch colors, use the forged merchant papers…”

Sam nodded, knowing the drill but not interrupting, letting Dean work things over even though by now all of this was so ingrained in both of them and the crew it didn’t need saying. “Dean, we’ll need to hire on a Master and Commander, or set one of the other crew to learning it… we need to replace….”

“No!” Dean’s eyes flared up angry, then he turned his face away from Sam, “Not… not yet. Just not yet, please Sam…”

Sam took in a heavy breath. “Okay. I’ll cover those duties a while longer.”

Dean turned back and reached out for Sam’s hand. “Thank you.”

Sam covered Dean’s hand with his other. “I’ll let you know when we make port.”

“Hey! Soups on!” Garth barged in, hands full of a tray of food and his mouth bright with a smile. “Time to get our Capt’ fed and on his feet!”

While Garth bustled about getting a bowl of stew in Dean’s hands and the bread broken and buttered, Sam got up and went to the door. He paused before he walked out, giving Dean a long calculating look. It had been nearly a month since they had defeated Azazel and watched the Temple implode on itself. If Sam had ever doubted the depth of Dean’s love for Castiel, he didn’t now. In the beginning when Dean had been all cocky and flirtatious with the naval officer, Sam had thought Castiel would just be another of Dean’s notches on the bedpost. Then they had grown closer and been best friends, but Sam had no idea that Dean had fallen in love so deeply and completely. He knew now and his heart ached for his brother.

It would be a long while before he would ask Dean again to hire someone to replace Castiel.

 

 

Sam decided on Martinique, and the Impala dropped anchor just off the coast of Bourg de Case Pilote. He kept her close enough to the shore that their smaller boat could make it in safely but far enough from their defensive canons so as not to tempt fate. From their vantage on the Impala, the settlement appeared to be a small village of about 30 homes and buildings, with a large but humble looking Church that had a monastery connected to it. Farms and orchards stretched up and away from behind the small settlement, though Sam had gotten a glimpse of a manor house and a French garrison building through his spyglass.

He decided to take only Benny at first to scope out the small settlement and to see if they could trade, but also to assess the level of French authority in the little village. He didn’t want to bring the crew in to find the whole area rife with French soldiers of the Crown. There was also the issue of slavery being not only legal in the French islands, but also highly popular. He didn’t want to run the risk of Victor or Tamara being hauled off in irons and sold away. They were Free Men and had the papers to prove it, but sometimes a greedy unscrupulous Governor or Mayor would still see fit to ignore that in order to turn a profit.

Slavery made Sam sick to his stomach and it was one of the things that had drawn him to Gabriel’s side when they were staying in the mansion near Port Royal. The idea of inciting hundreds of thousands of slaves to rise up and take their freedom had given Sam ideas. However, they had needed to stop Azazel first. Now that Azazel was gone, Sam wondering if it was time for he and Dean to withdraw from the high seas and find other goals to pursue. Learning the letter of the law in order to twist it around and help people normally victimized by it had a high appeal to Sam. He had just generally been more occupied with other goals and unable to pursue it.

“What’s on your mind Chief?” Benny drawled as he and Sam brought their boat to dock and tied it off. “You’ve been right silent our whole trip to shore.”

Sam looked around the simple docks lined with a few fishing boats and one smaller merchant ship. “Slavery, Benny. And taking up the cause to end it.”

Benny blew out a whistle and smiled, “Change the world? That’s no small thing.”

Sam smirked at Benny, “We saved the world by stopping Azazel and that was no small thing either.”

“Truth spoken.” Benny chuckled, and began walking with Sam up the docks.

They paid the tax for docking their boat and made some general inquiries from various people along the docks about buying supplies and trading. Sam and Benny spent the rest of the afternoon meeting with shop owners, butchers, coopers, and other craftsmen as well as merchants before they paid the fees to the government for a temporary license to buy and sell goods in the town. They also noted that there were Free Men working and living here, with only the basic French troops around the small town. It would be safe enough for the crew to come ashore and spend time here.

When the sun set Sam and Benny found their way to a small inn and settled at a table near the bar to take their evening meal. Slowly the inn filled with people, mainly seeking wine and ales at the bar, and finally a minstrel arrived to walk through the crowd singing and strumming a small stringed guitar.

When their meal ended, Sam went to stand up but Benny tugged his arm, nudging Sam to not leave his seat. Brow raised, Sam looked at Benny, but Benny redirected Sam’s attention over to the end of the bar area.

“Fellow in the large tri-corner hat, face in shadow. Been real interested in us since we sat down.” Benny said quietly with his mug of ale held just in front of his mouth to hide that he was speaking.

Sam brought his eyes back to his own empty mug on the table. “What do you think? One of Governor Roger’s pirate turncoats? A bounty hunter?”

“That man at the bar, he ain’t breathin’ Sam.” Benny met Sam’s eyes.

Understanding crossed over Sam’s face and he gave a small nod. He held up one finger and then tapped his mug twice, sending a coded message to Benny on which tactic Sam felt they should use to investigate the man at the bar. Could be a demon or a vampire or another unnatural thing they hunted. Benny tapped the table once to let Sam know he understood, and then he went back to drinking his ale.

Sam made like he was draining his mug fully before he put it back down. He stood up and crossed the room, then went outside. As he stepped away from the inn’s entry and began to walk down the street, and as he did he could hear someone follow him out. Sam continued, carefully walking toward areas of the darkened town with less and less people. And as he did, the person following him began to pick up their pace to close in on Sam. He saw his moment when an alleyway presented itself, to Sam’s left.

He ducked down into the narrow walkway between the buildings with the person right behind him. It was then that Sam stopped abruptly and spun, drawing his sword with his momentum and rounding on the person tailing him. He shoved the man against the alley wall with his left arm as his right brought his sword to bear against the man’s throat. The man’s hat was knocked from his head but even in the lower light of the alley Sam could see the man’s face clearly.

“Gabriel!!”

“You know Sam, if I had known you missed being close to my fabulous physique, I would have arranged a little meeting sooner.” Gabriel grinned wide and bright. “How’s Jo by the way? Can we threesome again?”

Benny was there now at Sam’s elbow, groaning and chuckling in equal measure as Sam let go of Gabriel and stepped back.

“What are you doing here Gabriel?!” Sam sounded exasperated.

“What do you think? Rampant slavery, rich assholes being bigger assholes than previously thought of…” Gabriel brushed off the sleeves of his jacket. He was dressed almost like a highwayman now, no longer in his foppish finery. “I was going to stay ‘home’ and chill but then the whole coffee thing is starting to catch on here and well…You know how I like new exciting things.”

Benny shook his head and took up watch at the end of the alley while Sam fumed.

“Where were you when we were taking on Azazel?!” Sam snapped.

“Please. You didn’t need me. Winchesters and crew did just fine…” Gabriel retrieved his hat.

“No, no we did not!” Sam speared Gabriel with such a hard look that Gabriel paused from placing his hat on his head. “We… Castiel… he’s….”

“Ohhh….” Gabriel nodded and then did put his hat back on. “Look, did you think he was going to be able to stick around afterwards? He’s an angel, Sam, a warrior of God. His place was back in Heaven with the rest of the Host. He finished his mission and…”

“His mission?!” Sam barked. “Was that all we were to Castiel?? A mission?! He and Dean…”

“He and Dean had fun. So what.” Gabriel shrugged.

Sam loomed over Gabriel and lowered his voice coldly, “He and Dean fell in love.”

Gabriel blinked, and then scoffed. “Nah, no way….how could they possibly… I thought it was just….” Gabriel started to frown a little as he took in the seriousness of Sam’s expression. “Come on Sam, I mean, how can we really know if they were really in love?”

“Mermaid song. It had no effect on Castiel and at the time Dean was denying his feelings, it have him a hell of a headache. So what does that tell you?” Sam spoke quietly and then stepped back, striding over to stand beside Benny while he fought the piercing anger flaring up at how unfair this all was.

Gabriel came out of the alley, “Wait, really?”

“Yea really.” Benny turned around. “Dean’s half dead back on th’ ship mourning Castiel. This thing between them, it ain’t no joke.”

Gabriel’s face grew somber.

“Castiel is in heaven with the Host then?” Sam clenched his jaw.

“He was called back after the Temple collapsed.” Gabriel stated.

“Then you go get him and bring him back down here!” Sam railed.

“It doesn’t work that way Sam and you know it!” Gabriel raised his voice. “The story is over, everyone has played their parts and now it’s time for everyone in it to ride off into the sunset. I can’t help it if the ending isn’t what you wanted!”

Gabriel pushed back both in his aggressive stance and in his tone. “What’s done is done.” He lifted his chin. “Now… enjoy the rest of your lives gentlemen. I have several thousand slaves to free.”

And then just like that Gabriel was gone.

 

 

 

Over the following week, the crew was given leave in small groups, and Sam took on the task of making sure the Impala was fully resupplied and readied to sail. He kept his run in with Gabriel quiet with Benny’s consent, deciding that bringing it up with Dean or any of the rest of the crew now wouldn’t do his brother any favors.

By the following full moon the Impala was back out in the open waters and headed northward. Sam figured they might as well set in to meet up with Bobby and Ellen sooner than later, and maybe some time at the Cove would help Dean grieve and heal. Surely being off the ship for a fortnight would help ease Dean a small bit. They made good time and were in good waters for a week.

A day after that, the fates seemed to have other ideas.

Sam was rousted from sleep as he was curled up with Jo in their shared bed. Victor was pounding on their door over and over, calling for them with no small amount of panic in his voice. Sam hastily tugged on breeches before he swung the door open wide.

“This better be life or death Victor or so help me…” Sam warned.

“It’s both.” Victor looked pale. “We’ve storm clouds come up out of no where. Waters’ve gone black as ink….”

“Demon sign.” Jo had already dressed and was buckling on her bandolier of knives. She pushed past Sam and Victor and ran out towards the main deck. Victor followed, and Sam cursed as he ducked back into his cabin to dress.

Sounds of commotion on the main deck filtered down the hall and through Sam’s open door, and he didn’t even wait until he had both boots on before he came rushing onto the main deck. He hopped on one foot as he shoved his last boot on, his eyes checking the skies around the mast tops of the Impala.

Heavy clouds churned and rumbled, seething with an agitation Sam hadn’t seen in a very long time. Whatever was coming was old and powerful.

Sam snapped out orders to the crew, to be ready to drop anchor if needed, and to trim all the sails down immediately. He had Tamara head the team to get the canon’s loaded and had Benny make sure everything was battened down. As he turned to go back to the war room to get the blessed musket and a few other helpful weapons and artifacts, he called Kevin to come with him. Kevin instantly came to Sam’s side.

They had barely made it to the doors for the hallway to the cabins when the sky opened up with a peal of thunder and lighting cracked into the ocean just beside the ship. A heartbeat later rain came down hard and merciless, drenching the crew in moments. The wind picked up and the ship heaved slightly as if it were caught on a massive lip of a wave.

Sam pointed Kevin toward the war room and sent him to get everything they needed. As Kevin dashed inside, Sam staggered to the side of the ship where the lightning had struck. He peered over and with the next flash a lightning he let out a gasp at what he saw. That gasp was echoed by someone standing to Sam’s right.

Dean was there beside him, dressed but barefoot, gripping the side rail and looking with Sam over the side.

The water there was swarming with mermaids, thousands of them. More than Sam had ever even thought were possible. And below them something huge and dark was rising up from the deep, pushing the water to swell up alongside of the Impala’s hull.

Sam whipped his wet hair off his face and shouted to Charlie at the wheel to veer off and turn the ship. Then he raced back to where one of the main anchors was tethered near her, grabbing up an axe from the side of the quarterdeck. As Charlie pulled hard on the wheel with her whole body, Sam darted past her. In nearly one move he leapt over to the anchor spool, kicked the leaver to let the anchor free, and using the axe cut the rope rigging that held the rear spanker sail taught. The sail shivered loose and drooped giving into the wind instead of cupping and holding it. The anchor dragged into the water and the Impala began to turn.

Just as she arched fully into that turn, the water being brought up from below crested into a wave and pushed at the Impala. Already moving into that direction now, the ship didn’t resist the movement and instead of toppling, she rode the wave as it traveled. Soon the Impala had made a full u-turn, rocking over the wave and using it instead of standing against it.

As Sam and Benny wrestled down the loose spanker sail, Dean moved with sure footfalls over to the other side of the Impala to watch whatever was rising from the deep come up to meet them. He gripped the rail hard and clenched his jaw.

The closer to the surface the shape got, the faster is rose through the water. By the time it broke the surface it was launched a few feet up out of sea. It landed against the ocean’s surface with a thunderous splash that soaked the deck of the already rain drenched Impala with seawater.

 

 

Dean drew in a sharp breath while behind him the entire crew went silent.

Before them, bobbing on the dark mermaid infested waters, with the wind and rain and thunder railing all around it was a huge dark sea-green ship. This sea vessel was easily three times the size of the Impala, and out gunned her at least 5 to 1. Her sails towered over the Impala, and her large crows nest was an iron sphere shaped cage crowning the highest point. The sails on the ship were huge sea fans woven together, and sharp barnacles and razor coral jutted over her entire outer hull.

The oddest part of this ship from the deep however, was the ghostly shimmering visage of the ship it once was, glorious with white billowed sails and ornate carved wood all over her deck. This ghostly image waivered with the wind and rain, sometimes flickering in and out of sight but it never full hid the dark beastly ship that lurked behind it.

Dean barely had a half moment to collect his thoughts when suddenly boarding grappling hooks were flying off the other ship to land with loud ‘k-thunks’ into the Impala’s main deck. Their spines dug in deep, splintering the Impala’s wood. Dean went to shout for axes to sever the hooks’ ropes, but then froze. Dark chains much like the larger ones that had held the Impala at the bottom of the Skull’s Maw were attached to the boarding anchors. No axe would be able to cut through them.

Dean saw movement out of the corner of his eye through the whipping wind and rain. There were forms and shapes of men moving from the huge dark ship across those chains. They were heading for his ship and his crew.

Dean’s heart flared inside his chest. No more would the people he loved be taken from him. He would fight down to his last bone to keep his crew, his family, safe. Dean snarled and his whole body tensed.

“REPEL BOARDERS!” Dean commanded and drew his sword to point and the dark shapes headed for the ship. He filled his lungs and then let all his fury loose.

“ATTACK!!”

 

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combine dehydration, lack of real sleep, lack of substantial food and not moving for a long period of time and it can make the body freak out in a lot of ways. Add in Dean's emotional state and you can probably see why his mind went to the place it did.
> 
> *I do not have panic attacks myself, not like a lot of people do. So I apologize if I got the description wrong for it.


	35. Chapter 35

 

 

Few things have ever frightened Dean Winchester to his core. The night his mother was killed ranks high on the list of these things. As does the confrontation in the Temple when they faced Azazel, though his fear then was more for the people he loved to make it out of that altercation unharmed. He’s faced those both, and of course he is still freshly dealing with the latter. There have also been times when Dean felt afraid of the possibility of his own failure, and the repercussions of such.

But nothing had ever felt like this. The raw unchecked terror stung his whole body as he looked into the empty eye sockets of the things that were swarming over onto the Impala from the ghastly ship from the deep.

They were shaped as men, but towered over even Sam in height. Their ashen flesh was desiccated and dry, clinging to their sinewy bones under their ragged wet clothing. Some retained an echo of the face they once wore, but most had grim skull bared heads. Their teeth were held in a death like rictus of a grimace. They were undead, wielding age-old swords and knives and fighting as if the very Devil himself was whipping them forward.

As the torrent of rain abated, they had crawled and floated, shivered and lurched across the space between the ships, overwhelming the Impala’s crew like a dark cloud of decay. Swords and musket shot passed right through them unnoticed, and when Kevin shot off the blessed musket they had used on Azazel, it’s ball shot cracked straight through one of the thing’s skulls and it still kept coming. Shouting exorcisms and blessings had no effect, holy water had no effect, and Kevin’s demon bombs had no effect. And in short order the entirety of the Impala’s crew, her Captain included, were overwhelmed, disarmed and brought mercilessly to their knees.

Sam, Dean and the crew were herded together and lined up kneeling row after row, their hands placed atop their heads. Their weapons were taken and piled into a heap on the quarterdeck out of reach. And then these undead beings hovered and paced around them watching them and waiting. The very air around their forms swung from icy to furnace hot as they shifted and paced near their captives.

And it was here on his knees, hands on his head surrounded by these strange and hideous things that Dean had felt that fear settle in. Not for himself, because his life meant nothing to him except as a shield to his crew and his family in a situation like this. And he didn’t fear for their deaths, because he knew in death they would find peace.

There was no peace to be had however from creatures such as these and Dean knew that there were things, evil things, on the high seas that offered fates worse than death. It was this fear for his crew that gripped him now, and his brain raced to find a way out of this. A way to save the people he loved.

A low echoing resonant horn sounded from somewhere on the ghastly ship from the deep. Instantly all the things that had attacked and boarded the Impala drew their attention to look over at their ship, and they held unnaturally still. A large gangplank landed across from ship to ship with a heavy thud and with it came a foggy mist, curling and creeping over onto the Impala.

Dean glanced over at Sam and they traded anxious looks.

Four men came walking over the plank, followed by a fifth tall dark shape whose gait weaved in an ungainly manner. The four men were pallid, their eyes hollow and haunted, and their bodies seemed ghostly and it was difficult to discern their faces. They came aboard the Impala and took up a formation on either side of the plank at the rail. Then the last figure boarded the Impala, and the ship seemed to groan at her core in protest of having to suffer this person’s presence.

It was man, taller even than the first things that swarmed into the ship. His skeleton was still covered by his grey skin. His beard was long and flowing, but moved like smoke and fog, billowing and twisting below his chin and down his chest. He was dressed as most pirates, but his hat and overcoat were old, soggy with seawater and matted with kelp. And his eyes…

Dean held back a gasp.

The man’s eyes burned like dark coals, hot and glowing, never blinking.

He came to stand before Dean and with a nod, two of the skeletal creatures grasped Dean and yanked him to his feet.

“Ye be Captn’ of this ship?” The tall man looked down at Dean and the man’s raspy voice seemed to echo and hiss around in the air. “Ye are the soul what called of me?”

Dean balked. “C… called you?!” Dean swallowed. “I don’t even know who you are, how could I have called y….”

“I felt the call…” The man reached up and traced one knobby old finger along Dean’s jaw “Your soul. It called out. It sang loud in its despair, its pain. You called to join me an’ me crew.” The finger trailed down to Dean’s heart and jabbed once, painfully before withdrawing.

Dean’s eyes went wide. In his grief and delirium he had thought about sinking down to join his father John Winchester, into the depths of the sea. Suddenly the mermaids words that one evening ricocheted around in Dean’s head, “….there are far deadlier nastier things than we in the ocean’s depths, things that feed on wasted love…” Dean’s heart was thumping hard in his chest and he knew the tall terrible man was speaking the truth. Dean had brought this ship up from below, and her Captain and crew had answered Dean’s despairing call.

“The Flying Dutchman…” Dean blurted out and he heard many of his crew behind him gasp aloud.

“Tis we, of the Dutchman and I, Captn’ Van der Decken…” the tall man bowed low and courtly before Dean, sweeping his hat off his smoke ringed brow before standing once more and replacing his hat. When he looked back at Dean his eyes blazed hot and fiery before settling back into their ember like state. “Give us your name now and let’s be off.”

Dean’s mind raced. He straightened and shook off the bony hands of the creatures that were holding him. “I can’t go with you!” Dean thrust his chin into the air and looked up defiantly at the Captain of the Dutchman. “I won’t go with you.”

Captain Van der Decken paused a moment and then a hideous smile crept over his face. “You called. We came. Tis how the bargain is struck.”

“Oh yea? Well where were you when we fought the demon Azazel?! Wasn’t there a bargain with John Winchester to see to that??” Dean met the nearly demonic eyes of Captain Van der Decken.

“Winchesterrrr…” The Captain of the Dutchman’s eyes narrowed. “Ye be a Winchester?”

“Are you kidding?” Sam blurted out. “You stand on the deck of the Impala itself. Of course we’re Winchesters.”

Captain Van der Decken’s eyes slid over to Sam and then back over to Dean. “JOHN WINCHESTER.” Van der Decken’s voice rolled out like thunder over the main deck. “Come forth!”

One of the four men who had preceded Captain Van der Decken onto the Impala stepped forward, his face blank, eyes hollow. His steps were lifeless as he came forward from where he had been with the others, but as he came closer his facial features became clear.

“DAD!!” Dean blinked wide and made to dart to his father, but one of the creatures caught Dean’s arm and held him back. “DAD!”

John Winchester stood there unseeing; his hands limp at his sides. No breath came from his chest and no color was in his cheeks.

Captain Van der Decken gestured to John, “The battle with Azazel was on land. We do not walk the land, only move through the sea. So no aid was given whence facing the demon.”

Dean turned on Van der Decken now, fury in his green eyes. “Then release him! He gave himself to you so you would come and help us defeat Azazel. You didn’t come so he shouldn’t stay with you!”

Sam stood up, elbowing one of the creatures that attempted to hold him down. In a proud voice Sam said, “I request to read John Winchester’s Contract for his Soul. And I demand to see the one for Dean’s as well!”

“By whose authority do ye make this request?” Captain Van der Decken eyed Sam a second time.

“As the Impala’s Quartermaster and by the Code of Pirates I am permitted to oversee all writs and contracts made towards crew, both current and former.” Sam took a step towards Van der Decken.

The Captain of the Dutchman paused again, held still like he was hewn from stone. Then slowly he reached within his overcoat and withdrew two folded parchments. He thrust them at Sam and glowered.

Sam took them into his hands and carefully opened the first. He took a long moment to read it over. He gave no reaction at first, and then frowned deeply at one part. He read it over a second time and then looked up to Dean. Sam’s eyes filled with a saddened helpless look as he shook his head while he nodded in the direction of their father. Evidently there was nothing to be done about John’s contract. Sam glanced once at Captain Van der Decken before refolding it and opening up the second one. This one he read quickly, and then leaving it open, he turned to show it to the rest of the Impala’s crew.

Holding the paper high Sam spoke out, “This is the contract laying claim to your Captain, Dean Winchester and his soul.” Sam paused, “It is NOT signed, nor verified by Dean’s hand.”

Jo, Benny, Victor, Charlie, Tamara, Garth, and Kevin shoved and shook off the creatures to stand up. Their eyes first looked to the parchment Sam held aloft, then they turned their angry glares toward the Captain of the Dutchman. Sam pivoted on his foot to look back to Captain Van der Decken as well.

“This contract is not binding until Dean signs it. And this crew will not allow him to be taken off on a unsanctioned deal such as this.” Sam stated firmly.

“Indeed.” The Captain of the Flying Dutchman slowly turned towards Dean once more. “Shall we see about that, aye?”

Abruptly the undead Captain was moving with preternatural speed. He caught Dean’s face up into both of his wretched deathly hands, forcing Dean to look deep into his hellish eyes. Dean’s cry of protest was caught in his throat, and his initial action to fight off the undead Captain suddenly died when Dean’s whole body went limp. The Captain’s gnarled fingers dug into Dean’s cheeks and jaw and held Dean tight. Dean’s eyes went wider and wider as his pupils shrank smaller and smaller, until Dean’s eyes were pale green and looked lost.

Sam and the rest of the crew surged forward toward Dean, to help him, but the creatures snagged and snatched them back. They were held down as they yelled and cried out to Dean.

Dean made a soft choking sound and his eyes rolled back into his head.

 

  

Dean found himself on the deck of a hazy grey ship whose details and elements were fuzzed and diluted. Everything around him was shifting and tenebrous, only the wood beneath his feet was solid. He held still a moment, then turned quickly to look around. It was hard to see anything here, wherever he was.

“Hey Son….”

Dean whirled around to find his father, John Winchester, standing there.

John looked solid and real, his face as Dean had remembered it. John’s skin was ruddy from the sun and his eyes were rich and warm. “You look good Dean.”

“Dad…” Dean felt his emotions welling up inside him and he reached out to John. When his hand met John’s arm, it felt as firm and real as it looked. Dean nearly sobbed with the spike of emotions hitting inside him.

John met him the rest of the way, pulling Dean into a warm firm hug. He clapped Dean on the back a few times, then took hold of Dean’s shoulders and held them apart so he could see his son’s face. “There’s not much time.”

Dean nodded and pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes to push the tears away. “Yea but Dad…”

“Please Dean, I need you to listen.” John implored as he squeezed Dean’s shoulders reassuringly. When Dean nodded John continued. “Tell me you didn’t mean it when you wanted to join me on the Dutchman.”

“I lost Cas…. Dad. And it felt….” Dean shook his head, “I’m so empty without him. It hurts so much and I don’t know what to do.”

John looked at Dean tenderly, his eyes gentle as his thumb stroked against Dean’s shoulder. “I know what that’s like.”

“I know you do. I know, when you lost Mom….” Dean let out a weary broken sigh. “It happened when we fought Azazel. Castiel, he….”

“I’m sorry Son.” And John meant it. “Do you really want to come and join the crew of the Dutchman?”

Dean met John’s eyes. “My crew needs me Dad. We defeated Azazel, but there is still more to do I’m sure. Castiel’s gone and I’ll never stop feeling his loss but Dad… Sam needs me. Sam needs me Dad…. Charlie needs me, Jo, Benny, Tamara… they all still need me. I can’t leave them.” Dean reached up to grip John’s forearms. “I have to stay on the Impala!”

John smiled, proud and fond. “Then you’ll stay.”

“And you’ll come with us too Dad.” Dean tugged on John’s arms, digging his fingers into John’s sleeves.

“That can’t happen Son. My contract with the Dutchman goes beyond just providing the help you might have needed to win against Azazel. Van der Decken was the one that helped me get the musket and the bullets that you used to kill Azazel. And the Dutchman’s crew gave me the spell that I gave to Castiel and the angels to help hide the Impala in the Skull’s Maw.” John said softly. “My debit to him needs to be repaid.”

Dean winced. “But Dad…”

“It’ll be okay Dean.” John reassured as he released his hold on Dean’s shoulders. “I’m here with them for one hundred years. Then my soul is free to join your Mother’s.”

“I love you Dean, you and Sam.” John took a step back and he seemed to begin to fade into the mists and fog around them. “I’m proud of you boys, and your whole crew. So very proud.”

“Dad!” Dean moved forward as John kept stepping back, fading faster and faster into the ether.

“The Impala is your ship Dean, always meant to be that way. You’ll do amazing things with her, I know you will.” John was nearly gone now, his voice just an echo. “Tell Sam I’m sorry, tell him everything. And keep listening to the mermaids Dean… they…”

But John was gone.

“Dad??” Dean shouted into the haze. “DAD??!!”

Suddenly Dean was bent over on his hands and knees gasping for breath on the Impala’s main deck.

Captain Van der Decken’s boots were striding away from Dean, heading back to the Flying Dutchman. The four men, including the shade of John Winchester, retreated with Van der Decken. As soon as they had vanished aboard the Dutchman, the creatures holding the Impala’s crew left as well, swiftly. Silently.

The Flying Dutchman rocked away from the Impala as her boarding chains dissolved into smoke. The gangplank teetered off and went plunging into the dark waters below. With a sound like a groaning sigh, the Dutchman began to nose down into the sea, sluicing low into the waves.

Dean was on his feet now as his crew rushed past him to watch the Flying Dutchman sink down below the surface of the ocean. Her form sank as she had risen, her shape plowing straight down to be lost into the sea’s depths. The Impala rocked hard on the waves that were kicked up, but that was all. Soon besides the darkened skies, there was no sign that the Flying Dutchman had ever been there at all.

Oddly, the mermaids still circling in the water did not follow the Dutchman down.

Moments passed, and the mermaids neither came to the surface, nor did they disperse and swim away.

Dean watched them a moment and then made a decision. He was already barefoot and without his sword, so he undid his belt and dropped it to the deck.

Sam looked over, his brow creasing. “Dean?”

Dean climbed up to perch on the edge of the side rail and looked over into the water.

“Dean?!” Sam was moving towards Dean, his hands out reaching for his brother to stop him from doing whatever crazy idea Dean had obviously gotten into his head.

“I’ll be right back Sam. Don’t worry!” Dean leapt, diving down off the side of the ship. A moment later he made a perfect entry, barely making a splash as he dove below into the sea.

“DEAN!” Sam leaned over the rails frantically while Benny and Victor ran over to begin getting one of the wood platforms or the small ship to shore boat over the side and into the water.

Some of the mermaids swam immediately towards Dean and Sam felt his stomach seize up in dread.

Dean came to the surface and he was ringed by six of the mermaids. Sam watched as they floated there, and at first nothing seemed to happen. Sam leaned over further with his eyes trained on Dean, and held his breath. A moment later he realized they were speaking to each other. Sam held his breath and watched, and watched. When they kept talking and nothing else happened, Sam looked back and yelled for Benny and Victor to hold off.

Soon the whole of the Impala’s crew was at the rails once more, just watching as their Captain tread water and talked in low voices with those six mermaids.

Finally the mermaids dove down and swam deeper in the waters below the ship. Dean looked up and motioned to Sam.

“Throw down a rope Sam!” Dean called.

“I don’t know if I should Dean!” Sam let his displeasure at Dean’s action show fully on his face. “JERK”

“Bitch.” Dean fired back without ire, a smile growing on his face. “C’mon Sam.”

Sam sighed and threw up his hands while Tamara and Charlie dropped a rope ladder over the side for Dean.

A few minutes later a soaking wet Dean dropped down to land on his feet on the main deck, a giant smile plastered on his face. He looked over his crew standing around him, their expressions a mix of disbelief, shock, confusion and weary resignation. “What’s everyone standing around for? We have ships to chase down, monsters to hunt, lives to save!” Dean’s voice snapped into his Captain’s tone. “Stations, everyone! Full sail! I want this ship moving! Head west, then northwest, full out. I want to be passing between Jamaica and St. Domingo before sunset tomorrow! Crew shifts of six hours…”

The crew jumped to it, scattering immediately per their Captain’s orders. All except Sam who stood there with his hands on his hips and a sour look on his face. He spoke and his voice carried a warning tone to it, “Dean…. No. Are you even okay? What happened with Captain Van der Decken? And what about Dad?!”

“You saw Dad’s contract. It’s…” Dean’s smile faltered. “It’s out of our hands.” Dean paused but then his smile came though, growing by increments with each word he spoke now, "As for me and Captain Van der Decken, I think this crew's determination broke whatever hold the Flying Dutchman though it had on me too. Unsurprising really..."

Sam gestured over the side of the ship, “And the mermaids?!”

“Something Dad said when Van der Decken let me talk to him. I’ll tell you more when we get under way. But for now….” Dean patted Sam on the shoulder as he walked past, leaving a wet handprint on Sam’s shirt. There was a bounce in Dean’s step and a wild cunning grin on his face.

“Cheer up Sam,” Dean spread his arms wide, “We’re going to go get Castiel back!”

 

(to be continued)


	36. Chapter 36

 

Sam watched his brother walk away. There was a huge smile on Dean’s face and a spring in Dean’s step, and every movement Dean made caused Sam’s heart to sink further into his chest. Dean collected his belt and his shirt and was headed for his cabin, not Jo’s old one. Sam planted his hands on his hips and chewed on his bottom lip. He took a deep breath and then followed Dean into the cabin hallway.

By the time Sam caught up with Dean, his brother was already in his Captain’s cabin, pulling on a clean shirt and replacing his belt. Sam pushed the door to the cabin open more and waited a moment in the doorway, his body held pensive. He waited until Dean had his boots pulled on and his jacket in hand before he cleared his throat and stepped further into the cabin.

“Dean…” Sam started. He wasn’t looking forward to talking this out with Dean. His face was resolved and his eyes were downcast.

“I knew Cas would find a way to keep from being buried under all that stone. He probably came out on the other side or flew up through the middle… he was probably looking for us all this time Sam!” Dean shrugged on his jacket. “The mermaids said….”

“The mermaids Dean? Really?” Sam felt that dreadful rock settle heavier under his heart.

“The mermaids said….” Dean continued again, his voice was confident, sure and firm. “The day after we left, they saw a man on the beach where we battled Azazel. He went down the beach and managed to board a Spanish merchant ship, the name on the back was ‘Encarnación’…. They said she sailed northwest, probably towards Havana and….”

“Dean!” Sam clipped his brother’s name out, voice pained as he ran his hands through his hair. “Just…. Stop. Okay?”

Dean halted, his hands reaching for one of his swords to sheath it into the scabbard on his belt. He looked at Sam, confused and then finally registered the agonized look on Sam’s face. When Dean spoke his voice came out soft and guarded. “What?”

“I don’t know who the mermaids saw on that beach Dean, but it wasn’t Castiel.” Sam let out a heavy sigh and took a half step towards Dean.

“But they said…” Dean frowned.

“They’re wrong Dean.” Sam looked sick now and he let his hands fall uselessly to his sides. “When Benny and I were in ‘de Case Pilote… We saw Gabriel.”

“Gabriel?!” Dean was taken aback, “Why didn’t you tell me you saw him?”

“Dean, listen….” Sam felt his stomach lurch, “Gabriel said Castiel was called back to heaven. He’s gone Dean. His mission was fulfilled and he….”

“I wasn’t just a mission to him Sam.” Dean’s voice lowered to a sharp edge. “WE… We weren’t just a mission. He’s family! We’re…” Dean gestured fast and sharp between them, “We’re his family. This crew. Not heaven!”

“Why would Gabriel lie about this Dean?!” Sam implored, exasperated. “Why would he say this to Benny and I?!”

“It’s not true!!” Dean railed. “It can’t be true…. I won’t…!” He sucked in a fast breath and pushed past Sam into the hallway. He paused, clenching his fists tight before looking back at Sam. “Gabriel may really believe Cas is gone. But I don’t. And I mean for us to find him. No matter what.”

And with that Dean strode out onto the main deck to Captain his ship.

 

 

A day passed.

The sea was open and bereft of other ships as far as the eye could see.

However the weather stayed fair, the sun bright and the skies clear. The waves were manageable and the sails never fell empty. They made good time and soon by the stars and their charts, they knew they were nearing the bigger islands Dean had been aiming for.

The mermaids stayed with them, running below the waters just deep enough that their shapes were blurred but close enough to the surface that the crew could see them there.

Dean took some comfort from that. Even if his crew felt that this was a lost cause, that Castiel was indeed with the Host in Heaven, the mermaids believed that Castiel was alive and somewhere in the West Indies.

He had spoken at length again with Sam, sharing his encounter with their father’s spirit and what John Winchester had said to Dean. They also talked about what Gabriel had told Sam and Benny, but Dean could not let go of one small detail.

Gabriel said Castiel had been called back to Heaven. Gabriel had never said that Castiel was actually there. And that was enough for Dean. Even if the mermaids were toying with him, all these things together became a sign to Dean that he shouldn’t give up.

Dean also speculated that Castiel may not have his angelic grace anymore, and that’s why Gabriel thought he had gone. And why Castiel hadn’t just appeared as he had done in the past. If Castiel had even become fully human that was more reason that Dean shouldn’t give up looking. Castiel could need them, need him, more than ever.

On the second day out, Dean was at the wheel watching the sun climb higher in the morning sky. In his head he calculated that if they kept their course they could slide right between Jamaica and St. Domingo shortly after the sun hit its noon point. From there they could head to Havana and skirt the area. Maybe go into the surrounding ports in small teams to scout for word on the Encarnación. Dean’s mind plotted and planned out different contingencies and ideas for tracking down the Spanish ship to where it had gone. Even if it was ahead of them and on it’s way back to Spain, they could track it and eventually catch up to it. It would take some work but this was something he and his crew knew how to do well.

“SAILS!!”

Dean blinked out of his thoughts and looked up into the crows nest where the crewman on watch there was pointing out over their portside and back. Dean twisted around and pulled his spyglass from his belt loop, then extended it and brought it up to his eye.

A ship was headed roughly their direction from their southeast. She seemed the right size for a Spanish merchant ship, or a cargo ship. Too small for a Man of War but it could still be a smaller Navy ship used for reconnaissance or smaller strike forces.

Dean lowered his spyglass and discovered Charlie standing beside him. He spoke to her but kept his eyes trained on the sails running behind them. “Run the Dutch flag and change course a few degrees so we cross in front of her path. Let’s see how our ‘new friends’ react to that.”

“Aye Captain.” Charlie nodded and left to dole out his orders.

Sam came up then, taking the spyglass from Dean to have a look for himself. He held it up, watching a moment before handing it back to Dean. “We should take her anyway, even if it’s not the ship you think Castiel is on.”

Dean raised a brow. “Missing the pirating life Sam?”

Sam smirked. “Be good for the crew to take a normal prize. And it wouldn’t hurt our coffers either.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “Good idea Quartermaster. Let Benny know and get a boarding party ready.”

Sam slapped Dean lightly on the back of his shoulder before turning away with a grin. This at least he could get behind. He made his way down to the rest of the crew, giving orders and getting everything ready to take the oncoming ship. They shortened their sails, and then gathered weapons and boarding hooks where the other ship’s crew wouldn’t see it. They loaded their canons quickly and quietly.

Dean kept following the other ship’s progress with his spyglass while he waited. The other ship kept coming in the same direction as before without changing course. Dean had Charlie slowly wheel the Impala around so she was pointed southeast towards the oncoming ship.

Dean held his breath and kept watch.

They were fairly close now, close enough that Dean could see she was a Galleon style ship without the use of the spyglass. She had off white sails, three masts on her and while she had fewer in number guns than the Impala, they were bigger. Dean was considering keeping straight at the other ship and firing once with their front guns to avoid a broadside confrontation when the other ship began to pick up speed and turn.

“Shit.” Dean grimaced. The other ship had decided to present her guns to them instead of coming any closer. He only had a moment to choose his next course of action.

Dean stepped closer to Charlie, “Aim for her aft. We’ll skim past her backside and strafe her with our side canon. They’ll have a hard time lining us up with their big side guns…. Hopefully.” Dean patted Charlie on the back when she nodded and adjusted course. Then Dean jogged down the steps to the main deck and informed Sam and Benny of his plan.

Benny broke away and headed down to the canon deck to relay the information to Tamara and the gunnery crew while Sam went to the boarding crew. Dean was about to head back up to Charlie when someone on deck shouted, “LOOK!”

Dean turned and his eyes went from cunning and cautious to excited and pleased.

The other ship was lurching suddenly, her progress suddenly impeded. Somehow she had veered hard to send her heading back in the direction where she had come. The other ship’s aft now unexpectedly exposed to the Impala, and they were nearly on the other ship now.

Dean rushed to move to where he could how that was happening. He found himself at the edge of the rail on the main deck watching a rope line dragging in the water from the other ship, tugging it into a circular path. He could also see the mermaids gathering at the rope line, gripping and pulling hard on it under the water. As the mermaids snared the rope they wrapped it around and fouled the other ship’s rudder with its own rope. With one glance to Charlie, he saw she was adjusting their course to intercept.

Dean gripped the rail as the Impala came to slow so that both ships would slip side by side. He was about to give the order to fire, to get a volley in on the other ship before she could unleash her bigger guns, when Sam grabbed Dean’s arm.

The other ships gun ports were shutting, like a ripple effect they slammed close very fast one after the other. Soon all the ports on the side facing the Impala were shut tight. If the other ship fired now she’d do herself more harm than the Impala.

The moment the ships were lined up Sam yelled out the call to board, and the crew sent the grappling hooks and ropes flying. The second they were secure, the Impala’s boarding crew took off, slapping down gang planks and swinging over to the other ship to attack her crew. That other crew was currently being thrown into chaos, shouting and running all over the other ship.

With a loud whoop Dean did the as his crew, swinging over on a rigging rope as he pulled his sword free. Behind him Victor raised the Impala’s pirate colors, letting the black flag with the Winchester symbol snap free into the air.

Sam and Dean took up fighting side by side now, mainly disarming and disabling the crew they encountered. They threw more punches, knocking sailors out cold than skewering them with their swords. Several of the other ships crew fired on them, causing them to duck until Jo came from behind to clock the men into the surface of their deck.

In short order though, the Impala’s crew overtook the other ship, forcing her crew to surrender. Those holding out below deck were brought up, the ship’s Captain and her Quartermaster were identified, and Sam took a small team to begin an inventory of her cargo. The Impala’s crew had been fast and efficient, back into the rhythm of a well working team.

Now Dean stood before the other Captain, who like the rest of his crew were on their knees and disarmed. Jo flanked Dean, and Victor had come over to help the boarding crew with their prisoners. Dean spun his sword in his hand once and then eyed the captured crew where they kneeled. They were a dirty rabble, not the usual merchant crew lot and as Dean took stock of them he noted that a fair amount of them had a wide variety of older wounds. Dean paused before their Captain and placed the tip of his blade under the man’s chin. He nudged the man’s face up so Dean could get a better look at him.

Dean smiled when he saw the man’s face, but it wasn’t warm nor was it friendly. “I know you.”

The man’s eyes merely hardened as he looked back at Dean and said nothing.

“Say Jo, when you were visiting with Bobby on his ship recently, what were the names of the turncoat pirates in the employ of Governor Rogers?” Dean let the point his sword prick the man’s skin lightly.

“I believe he said Benjamin Hornigold and John Cockram.” Jo raised one brow and looked at the captured Captain. “This isn’t Hornigold…”

At those names the man’s face paled.

Dean’s grin went feral. “It’s because this is the esteemed Mr. Cockram, former pirate and now lapdog to an English Governor.” Dean paused, “Captain Cockram did you really think you could take the Impala as yours?” Dean smirked, planted his boot in the center of Cockram’s chest and then pushed the man back roughly. Cockram sprawled against the deck and wouldn’t look at Dean.

“If’n we hadn’t a traitor among us, we’d a had you, Winchester.” Cockram spat out.

“Blaming someone on your crew for your sorry skills as a Captain? That’s right cowardly of you Cockram.” Dean glowered.

Cockram glared at Dean, “Piss off you filth. Someone tossed a rope over an’ snared our rudder. Then ‘e cut the lines on the canon ports, shuttin’ ‘em. I’d like to see you come out rosy from them happenings Winchester!”

Dean merely raised a brow at that and glanced over at Sam. Sam narrowed his eyes and nodded, then began to scan the rest of Cockram’s crew. Cockram didn’t know which of his crew had sabotaged them.

Dean sheathed his sword and addressed Cockram’s crew then. “Who here has pardons of piracy courtesy of Governor Rogers?!” Dean waited as a few shaking hands raised up. Dean looked at Victor and Jo, and with a nod they separated those with their hands up away from the other crew.

“So it’s like this. As you’ve heard from your Captn’….” Dean began to pace slowly. “I am Captain Dean Winchester of the Impala.”

The captured crew went deathly silent.

Dean continued, “And I present to you a choice. You may either be left tied here to this ship to take your chances with fate and the sea.” Dean paused, “Or you may join my crew, swear loyalty to me and mine, and sail with me for a year.”

“Only a year?” A ragged low voice asked from somewhere in the thick of the captives.

Dean turned, looking for the source of the voice. Something about it made a shiver run down his spine and his heart grow quicker in his veins. He narrowed his eyes and searched over the faces of the captured crew looking for the man as Sam flanked him on the other side of the deck, searching as well. “Friend, I would have your name and see your face in order to answer that.”

No one moved.

Jo looked at Dean and shrugged, her face a wash of confusion and bewilderment. Victor was the same. They hadn’t seen who spoke.

“And I’d need to know what your job on this ship was to know if you’d be of use to me and mine.” Dean stated while combing his eyes over the rag-tag group of prisoners. “And if you aided us by befouling this ship’s rudder and canon….”

“I was their cook.” The voice said.

Dean chuckled, “I’ve got a cook already. A good one.”

“What about a Master and Commander?”

Dean froze in his tracks. His heart had stopped as brilliant hope swelled big and explosive in his chest. “Cas….?” The name escaped him in a barely heard whisper the same moment his eyes locked on a man to the side, shadowed by the mainmast and wearing a dirty brimmed hat that held the man’s face in darkness. Dean picked his way over through the captured crew to stand before the man and he held his breath.

Slowly the man tipped his face up, and his hat fell back off his head. It allowed the sunshine to reveal his strong jaw, the thatch of dark hair atop his head, his sharp blue eyes, and his very familiar face.

“Hello Dean.”

Dean’s eyes were wide, his breath quickening in his chest. “Cas…!”

“Sorry to keep you waiting. May I stand up now?” Castiel smiled.

“Goddammit Cas YES!” Dean let out a joyful half sob, dropped his sword and reached out to grapple Castiel into his arms.

 

  

Castiel met him halfway as they collided with each other into a crushing embrace. They squeezed each other tight in the hug, burying their faces into each other’s shoulders and necks. Dean clung to Castiel hard, fingers clenched tight into Cas’ clothing as Castiel did the same in return. Just feeling the solid form of the other against their chest, in their arms, and under their hands was a mix of elated relief and overwhelming delight. They held each other, and held each other and didn’t let go.

“Ahem….” Sam was tapping on Dean’s shoulder now. “Uh, Captain?”

Dean and Castiel both looked up, barely pulling away from each other.

The prisoners had been sorted, and half of them were bound fast to the masts and the lower rigging. Captain Cockram was hung upside down from the mainyard. The rest were aboard the Impala, as well as the Impala’s crew and their haul of the captured ship’s cargo. The Impala’s crew was waiting for the order to shove off and head back out onto the sea.

Sam stood there with a pleased look on his face with his arms folded over his chest. His eyes were warm and happy. “Whenever you are ready to leave Captain?”

Dean blinked. “How…how did you do all that so fast?”

Sam rolled his eyes, “You mean how long have you and Cas been standing there like besotted love fools?”

Castiel blushed, “Forgive us Sam. And hello.”

Sam couldn’t help the smile that came over his face. “Hey Cas, nice to have you back. And I think the rest of the crew, myself included, would like to welcome you back aboard the Impala.”

“I’d like that very much Sam.” Castiel’s eyes went soft and watery.

Dean clasped Castiel’s hand tight and they traded a smile. The three of them made their way back over to the Impala as the crew began to withdraw the rest of the gangplanks and the boarding ropes.

When Dean, Sam and Castiel set foot on the main deck of the Impala, Benny was there held at attention with his Bosun’s whistle. He piped them aboard and then called out their designations to the rest of the crew standing at attention: “Captain aboard! Quartermaster aboard! And Master and Commander aboard!”

Castiel’s smile beamed brightly as he looked over the faces of the crew he had missed: Charlie, Jo, Benny, Garth, Victor, Tamara, Christina, and Kevin. They in turn smiled back; thrilled to have him reunited with them. The Impala’s crew was whole once more.

Benny called out orders to get the ship underway and the crew dispersed, but not before most of them either came up to Castiel to either shake his hand and welcome him back or to embrace him like the lost family member they felt he was. Dean stood beside him the entire time, grinning like he was the happiest man in the world.

As the crew hustled to do their duties, Castiel took a long deep breath and looked over the Impala’s deep beauty shimmering in the bright daylight. He reached out for Dean’s hand again, and when Dean took it eagerly, he could feel his heart swell.

Castiel was finally home.

 

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our apartment flooded thanks to a broken pipe in our neighbor's unit. We had to move out suddenly because of this, and I'm staying with friends at the moment. I'm going to be moving across the country very soon due to this as well. I'm 500% unsure of when the next chapter will be posted after this... there are only two more left. I'm doing my best but things are super unstable right now. 
> 
> I have a campaign up if you'd like to help out, even if it's to signal boost and share it on social media:
> 
> http://eshtiel.tumblr.com/post/156960414963/eshtiel-update-thanks-to-so-many-donations
> 
> https://www.gofundme.com/oranges-to-oranges
> 
> https://www.paypal.me/nhyrvana
> 
> Meanwhile I'll do what I can to finish this fic as soon as possible, and I thank you eternally for your patience and support with it. xoxo
> 
> -emily


	37. Chapter 37

 

Spotty sunlight trickled in and cast over Castiel’s drowsy eyes. He could half see the dust motes glittering soft as they floated in the air over his head in the morning light coming through the porthole. He was naked, wrapped and tangled with a still sleeping nude Dean. The covers from the bed had been shoved away somewhere in their haste to get at each other the night before. They had smothered each other in open-mouthed kisses, left finger sized bruises where they had gripped each other’s limbs, and were still coated in that thin sheen of post sex salt and dried sweat. The night before Castiel hadn’t remembered where his body had stopped and Dean’s had begun through the hours they had enjoyed each other’s pleasure. He felt a little sore in a few places from their activities, but now couldn’t give a care. He was warm, relaxed and happy.

The previous day Castiel had been reunited with the Impala, her crew and his Captain. Right after they had fled in haste for the waters of Tortuga and away from any Imperial Navy’s reach. When dusk had fallen they had dropped anchor in calm waters, broke out the casks of wine and rum, and celebrated well into the night. There had been music, dancing and an abundance of well-deserved good cheer.

At one point Castiel couldn’t take anymore of the heated looks Dean had been shooting his way over the edges of their tankards of rum, or the linger touches they kept trading between them. He had slung his Captain over his shoulder and carted the laughing man off to their cabin.

Their cabin.

Castiel sighed with contentment and let a smile rise on his lips to echo the sun coming into the cabin. He absently brushed his fingertips back and forth along the skin of Dean’s bare back, gentle and light. Dean snuffled briefly and nuzzled closer, his own hand skating down from Castiel’s chest to his hip. Fingers flexed there, then made their way to Castiel’s outer thigh. Castiel gave a light grunt and smiled wider.

“Dean…”

“Shhh…M’sleepin’” Dean smiled lazy against Castiel’s chest but his wandering hand smoothed from Cas’ outer thigh to the inner, then towards the juncture where groin and leg met.

Castiel nosed down into Dean’s hair to kiss there as he reached down with the hand on Dean’s back to grasp a handful of Dean’s ass. “Good, it’ll be easier to get between your cheeks if you aren’t distracting me…”

“Mmmm, it is my turn innit?” Dean grinned, his face still pressed to Castiel’s chest.

“It’s usually your turn…demanded by you all the time….” Castiel chuckled low and throaty before he let out a soft sigh and his eyes welled up with emotion. “But I can not deny you anything Dean, and now I have my whole life to bring you all the pleasure I am able.”

Dean shifted to lift his head and look at Castiel. His own eyes were playful until he saw the loving seriousness of Castiel’s gaze and then his expression went from saucy to joyful. He lurched up, kissing Castiel fully on the lips, before pulling back with a whispered ‘I love you too’.

But before Castiel could say more, that playful look on Dean’s face was back and he was sliding down Castiel’s body. Dean’s hands were pushing Cas’ thighs apart as his head dipped to lick and suck Castiel’s thickening cock into his mouth.

This had been Dean’s favorite mode through the night. Drive Castiel to the brink of orgasm with his mouth and hands, then either climb atop Castiel and ride him with abandon. Or tease Castiel until he would wrestle Dean to his back and take Dean thoroughly. It always started playful. Then it would get urgent, each pushing and grinding and grasping with trembling hands. Their thirst for the other would overwhelm them. Eventually it would even out to them holding close, kissing deeply while softening the roll of their hips until they would come. And in those moments they would whisper hot and raspy of their hearts secrets to each other.

This morning Dean had even less patience. The moment he had Castiel fully hard and he himself was opened and ready, he was slicking Castiel with oil. A moment later Dean was straddling Cas and seating himself so Castiel was pushed deep inside. Dean leaned forward to brace his face over Castiel’s, his green eyes as bright as spring leaves. He lifted and then shoved back down once, watching how Castiel’s mouth fell open and how Castiel’s eyes fluttered in pleasure.

“I would…” Dean lifted and then thrust down, trying to keep their movements slow and even for once, “…do this…” up and down “…with you…” out and in “…forever…”

Castiel thrust his hips up, and then wrapped Dean up into his arms and rolled them over. Their bodies curled together tighter, their thrusting and their breaths coming faster. Dean groaned out as Castiel pushed in deep. Their hands splayed across each other’s backs.

“Forever…” Castiel growled into Dean’s neck and picked up the pace, moving exactly how he knew Dean enjoyed it most.

Their mouths linked as their pleasure built and built. Soon they were rocking against each other, making the bed creak and groan with their exertion. Dean began to cry out, encouraging Castiel to keep going as he felt his own body begin to ripple towards orgasm. Castiel threaded his fingers into Dean’ hair and murmured ‘I love yous’ against Dean’s lips. Dean came with a soft whine and Castiel followed right after, his eyes flickering shut with the intensity of it.

They remain coiled, knotted together, fingers digging into the other’s skin as they trembled and came down from their high. Finally Castiel slid free before he and Dean fitted back together to cuddle close and kiss languidly.

After that the room filled with their happy breaths and quiet humming words while the sun outside climbed high into the bright blue Caribbean sky.

 

**...............................................................................................................................................**

 

 

**...............................................................................................................................................**

30 years later….

Castiel stepped out onto the main deck and lifted his face to the night sky. The moon hung round and sweet, low near the horizon as the stars wheeled in sparkling swaths through the rest of the darkness. The wind was firm and filled the Impala’s sails letting her cut through the nighttime waters with grace and speed. Castiel strode over to the rail and saw they were going to be near Singer’s Cove soon, and they’d need all hands on deck to maneuver the Impala through her protective entry.

But for now Castiel could just breathe in deep the scent of the sea and let the wind run its fingers through his loose hair.

That hair had grey now threaded through the dark, and Castiel’s face held lines and creases that were beginning to deepen. One leg pained him when the weather was too dry and cold, and he had many rough looking scars as well now. The pristine perfection his body had when he was angelic and younger was gone. Now it was like a map over his skin, marking the experiences he had as a long-standing member of the Impala’s crew.

Castiel leaned his hands on the rail and looked over his shoulder a moment towards the wheel up on the quarterdeck. Dean stood there with Charlie and Tamara, discussing one of the local charts and planning out their approach to Singer’s Cove. Charlie and Tamara had begun to show their age too, but instead of looking weathered they looked more and more majestic each year. Their age and scars looking regal and their hair was slightly lighter than when they were younger. A life spent doing what they felt passionate about contributing to their inner glow that still shone out brightly.

Castiel let his gaze linger on Dean now, like usual. The pirate Captain’s hair was lighter, a combination of the years of being in the sun and the faded gold strands growing in that heralded his impending grey. His skin was darker from the sun, but not overly so. And like Castiel, Dean had acquired his share of scars and wrinkles. Dean’s crow’s feet and laugh lines were now as deep as his laughter and as beautiful as his soul.

Castiel turned back to watch the ocean sluice past along the ship’s hull. Beneath were the every present shadows of the mermaids, running and darting to keep even with the ship. Castiel never could figure out why the mermaids had adopted the Impala, or appointed themselves as her unspoken guardians. They would not speak to he or Dean and had not done so for decades. Yet no matter where the Impala went, there were always at least eight of them in attendance, as faithful to the ship as her crew.

Distant thunder rolled away behind the Impala now, and Castiel was glad to be headed to Singer’s Cove for not only the shelter but also for the respite. The ship and her crew had been working hard as of late, taking on a series of ghost ships that some crazed warlock had created with an ancient curse. They had finally put to rest all the ships and stopped the warlock after months and months at sea.

Benny’s voice rang out now, calling out orders to the crew to prepare the ship to make the run between the sharpened rocks that guarded the pass into the cove.

Castiel rolled his shoulders and walked to the base of the mainmast while pulling out his leather gloves from his belt. He tugged them onto his hands, and then undid the tie off for one of the rigging ropes. He seated his foot into a loop knotted into the rope and held it down onto the deck as he made ready to flip the release on a different rope with his hand. Firming his grip up he glanced over once at Dean.

Dean was watching him now, green eyes bright with anticipation and a boyish smile on his face. Dean always enjoyed watching Castiel ascend to the crow’s nest, flying up almost like the otherworldly creature he used to be. Because of this, Castiel always waited to be sure Dean was watching before he went. Castiel nodded, and Dean’s smile broke wider as he winked.

Castiel flipped the release and just like the first time Dean had showed him how to do this, Castiel was launched up via the foot loop and the rope. He was propelled up swiftly, his body soaring past the sails and the rigging. Each time the sensation of flying upwards like this thrilled Castiel to his core, reminding him of his days as an angel and how he could zip through reality on his wings. The difference now though, was instead of feeling the energy of his grace; he was filled with the love and connection to this ship, its crew and his Captain. Along with that feeling of deep belonging was the solid confidence in his own abilities and skills as a Master and Commander of the Impala.

He used those now to leap higher into the rigging, a palm gripped here, and foot tap there. Swinging his body before leaping with ease as he made his way higher and higher. The air sang against his face and fluttered through his clothing.

Soon he was landing firmly into the crow’s nest and training his keen eyes on the encroaching divide that granted entry to Singer’s Cove.

Below on deck the crew took up positions just as they had always done. The Impala slipped easily into the main body of the cove through the narrow jagged rocks and from there it was no trouble to sail her across the small cove and up to the dock they always used. The crew secured the Impala to the dock, tying her off safe and secure.

As the crew did this, Castiel came down, using the patterns in the rigging to swing and soar down as he always did. At the bottom Dean was waiting for him, and Castiel greeted his love with a breathless kiss once his feet landed on the main deck.

When they parted, Dean pointed to one of the other ships resting at the dock near theirs. Castiel echoed Dean’s delighted smile at seeing Bobby’s old ship the Taiyang de Zhufu parked there, her white sails tucked away as she rested. Only it was no longer Bobby’s ship to command.

“Sam and Jo are here!” Dean squeezed Castiel’s shoulder; his excitement at being reunited with Sam and Jo during their stay in Singer’s Cove was bubbling over. Castiel agreed. Their time off here would be filled with family, love and laughter.

Castiel’s warm eyes met Dean’s. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

**...............................................................................................................................................**

 


	38. Chapter 38

 

 

**Epilogue**

24 miles Southeast of Acklins Island and 32 miles Northwest of Little Inagua Island.  
The Bahamas. May 12th, 2017

 

‘Singer’s Hunt’, a 50 foot diving boat outfitted for deep water exploration was anchored not far off an unnamed atoll within the Bahamas’ archipelago. It had been in the general area for over a month, slowly searching the sea’s floor in a regimented and purposeful grid pattern.

Today under bright sun and the clear sky, the on-deck team for that diving boat buzzed with barely restrained excitement. They paced tense and hopeful, while the undersea part of the team was down below the mild waves.

One of the on-deck team members, Dr. Jessica Moore, was worrying her knuckle in between her teeth. In her other hand was an iPad showing the bio readouts of the underwater team; their heart rates, their breathing rates, as well as sending their blood pressure numbers every few minutes. Dr. Moore had been hired by the leads of the expedition to be the medical authority for the team since the team’s search would be extensive and physically demanding. She had been prepared for the demands as a physician on this trip. What she hadn’t been ready for was falling head over heels for one of the team’s primary divers, Sam Wesson.

“Hey, they’re fine.” The reassurance came from Celeste Middleton, the team’s computer engineering specialist. She tapped the edge of Jessica’s iPad where the bio information coming from the divers was slightly higher than normal for the divers, but not within dangerous levels. “The data from the sonic radar showed a ship was down there, they’re probably giddy with glee exploring it.”

Jessica took in a deep breath and nodded, agreeing with Celeste. “I just hope it’s the one we’ve been searching for…”

“Images coming up on the sub-bot…” Pete Lovell, their surly Captain and crew chief, sported one of the same three beat up old trucker caps on his head regardless of what the weather was. He came up from below where the bank of computers and other electronic equipment was housed and monitored. “Looks like we got a winner. Ship’s showing the poop deck removed and like the stories say, she’s got no figurehead on her prow and no markers on her aft. Wood’s stained dark as you please too.”

Captain Lovell scratched at his blond-gray beard as he came to stand beside Celeste and Jessica. “If those boys can find the ship’s flag or anything from the stories we’ve heard…” He let the rest of that thought hang in the air.

Jessica took another deep breath. The tales and the stories she had heard about this ship were amazing and unbelievable. It was said that she was the ship belonging to two notorious pirate brothers that harrowed and prowled this area of the Caribbean for decades. Or at least those were the official stories; the historical data found on the records left by the Royal British Navy and Woodes Rogers, Governor of New Providence Island, claimed the brothers and their crew had been criminals with high prices on their heads.

The stories that the men on the dive below believed were very different and they were determined to prove it. Sam championed the idea that the brother’s weren’t pirates in the classical sense, but instead had been guardians of Caribbean and had saved people from hideous evils. His passion for the topic was one of the things that had drawn Jessica to the team to begin with.

Celeste began to fidget beside Jessica, her face smiling and her eyes bright. “What do you think the chances are that we’ll find journals from the crew? To read their own words on what they did, where they went, what they saw?”

“Slim. If that ship really is the one we’re lookin’ for, she’s been there around 200 years or so. Paper, leather, whatnot… that’ll be desiccated by now.” Lovell groused.

“Way to be positive Pete.” Celeste pouted.

Another member of the on-deck team called out that the divers were coming up, and two of them began to haul up one of the ropes sent over to help bring up anything recovered from the ship on this first initial dive. As they worked, one of the divers came up, breaking the surface of the water. He made his way back to the diving deck on the aft of their boat and tugged off his diving mask. Sharp blue eyes assessed his surroundings before the on-deck crewman came to help him back aboard. The diver’s strong stubbled jaw was set hard and his mouth was in a grim line after he removed the mouthpiece to his air hose.

Celeste came bounding back to the diving deck to look over the diver’s disgruntled face, “Uh-oh. Steve doesn’t look too happy.”

Steve ran a hand through the thick wet thatch of dark hair on his head before he began to wrestle out the rest of his diving gear. He threw a look at Celeste as he handed his aqualung over to the crewmember helping him. “I’m not happy.”

“What happened?!” Celeste asked, then came closer as Steve climbed aboard. Jessica hovered nearby.

“What do you think?” Steve scowled and grabbed a nearby towel to briskly dry off his hair. It left his dark hair sticking up every which way on his head.

Celeste sighed, “Dean?”

Steve didn’t answer and just tightened his jaw further.

The commotion of the other on-deck crewmembers bringing aboard the item they were hauling in pulled Celeste and Jessica’s attention away from Steve. They were brining aboard mesh cage holding three chests; two smaller ones and one much larger sized one. They had to work as a team to get them all safely onboard the boat.

A moment later the last two divers were breaking the surface of the water and heading for the diving deck.

Celeste and the other crewmembers went to help them come aboard, take their diving gear and help with their equipment. One of the divers handed over the small submersible robot ‘sub-bot’ to Celeste and she accepted it with a smile.

Soon the two divers were aboard and chattering excitedly as they got out of their gear. They were both tall, taller than most of their team. One had longer brown hair and hazel eyes while the other had short honey brown hair and quick green eyes. They bantered with each other about being able to get into one of the rooms below deck on the ship.

The taller of the two shook out his longer mop of wet brown hair as they talked, “I can’t believe we got so lucky…. That hatch lifted too easy.”

“Did you see that the main cabin areas were sealed tight? I couldn’t budge any of the doors. And when I looked in the portholes it looks as if there’s still air in there…. Not water!” The man with the shorter hair burst with excitement, “Even if this isn’t what we are looking for, this find is amazing. The historical knowledge preserved down there is going to be invaluable.”

“More valuable than your life Dean?” Steve growled out, not hiding his scowl. He had his hands planted on his wet-suited hips and he was spearing the shorter haired man with an angry look.

“Don’t start with me ‘Angel’….” The shorter of the two men swung around on the other diver, pointing a finger in his direction. “No guts no glory….”

Steve bristled at the nickname ‘Angel’. “Dean Smith, you did not hire me to be on this team to allow you or Sam to take unnecessary risks underwater…”

“Oh here we go.” Captain Lovell grumbled with exasperation as he cut in. “Haven’t you two princesses had enough of this squabbling? You two can dance this out later tonight in either of your cabins. Right now we got work to do!”

Dean Smith’s ears and cheeks colored up a bright shade of rose at Captain Lovell’s comments, “…we’re not…we haven’t…..”

Steve just folded his arms over his chest and glared at his fellow diver.

“Hey guys… LOOK!” Sam Wesson had squatted down by the largest chest while Dean and Steve had been squabbling. He had gone to the chest, eased open the latch holding it closed and lifted the lid. He reached inside with both hands and carefully removed a large folded section of black cloth. Sam stood and slowly began to unfold the large swath of surprisingly dry fabric. When it was fully revealed, the entire team was held silent in awe.

It was a pirate flag, but not just any pirate flag. Its black field background was broken in the center by a large sun-fire circle around a five-pointed pentagram.

Dean gingerly reached out to caress the edges of the flag. The hem was worn and frayed a little from year of use, but it had been sealed securely in its chest. The fabric was thick and soft to the touch. It was also undoubtedly the flag of the Winchester brother’s ship, the Impala.

Dean’s eyes were wide and shining, his mouth held half open in a smile. He pulled the flag from Sam’s hands and beamed at it. “This is it. We found her. We really found her!”

Captain Lovell stroked his beard with his fingers a few times as he assessed the flag. “That thing is in incredible shape. You said the main cabins were sealed shut?”

Sam nodded and stepped sideways to stand beside Jessica and slip an arm around her as he spoke to Captain Lovell, “Yea. And I was thinking maybe it would be better to try to raise her rather than salvage her underwater. Might be more expensive in the long term, but it would better preserve anything else still on the ship.”

Dean didn’t take his eyes from the pirate flag. He and Sam had matching symbols tattooed on their chests, gotten when they had begun their hunt for the truth about the Winchester brothers and the Impala. They were symbols of their commitment to their cause and symbols of their partnership. “I agree with Sam. We’ll raise her, dry-dock her. Then we can bring her into a warehouse, keep it clean and sterile. Work the seals open on the doors without damaging them. Repair her, keep her safe.”

Captain Lovell just nodded, “I’ll get the paperwork we need, and log it with the locals. Then we’ll start making plans. I’ll radio the main-land…” He then gestured to several crewmembers to follow him, including Celeste. They went as a group below deck.

Sam reached over with a smile to smooch Jessica on the side of her head. She playfully shoved at him and rolled her eyes but the smile on her ace grew bigger.

“I’m all for anything that keeps you three safely onboard. My nerves can’t take your bio-info spikes when you three get into things down there.” Jessica wiggled her iPad a little in her hand.

Sam just chuckled but Dean looked up at her with a frown.

“Not you too…” Dean’s voice soured.

“Perhaps when two of the Professionals you hired to assist this expedition tells you that your actions are reckless, you should listen to them.” Steve stated flatly.

Dean rounded on Steve, fuming. “Okay you know what?! I don’t care that you were a Navy Seal and decorated with tons of medals for saving people’s lives. I don’t care that you think I take too many risks. I just saved this expedition hundreds of hours of diving time by seeing an opening and taking it! And Sam an’ me found confirmation that we’re on the right track. You if you don’t like it ‘Angel’, you can take your stupid blue eyes and swim for the atoll!” Dean threw one hand in the air in frustration, and then noticed that the rest of the crew, Sam and Jessica included, had deserted the deck and left Dean and Steve standing there alone.

Steve just stood there, glaring, infuriated. He either didn’t care that everyone else had left, or he didn’t notice. His eyes were glued to Dean, their usual blue narrowed and dangerous. He took a few steps in towards Dean, erasing any personal space between them.

“I will not have you getting yourself killed because you want to shave off a few dollars on our budget.” Steve’s eyes looked dark and stormy this close, and they were very close now.

Dean glared right back, jutting his face closer to Steve’s. “Too bad… ‘Steve’.” Dean curled his lip as he said the other man’s name, giving it a sarcastic tone. He blew a puff of air right against Steve’s face at the end of it too, just to be extra problematic.

Steve growled and his nostrils flared. They had been sniping at each other since Steve had accepted this job. Steve had recently left the Navy Seals, an expert in deep sea diving as well as halo jumping. Dean had sought him out for his expertise and offered him a handsome sum to join the team. At first things had been fine, and Dean had playfully nicknamed him ‘Angel’ because of his halo jumping experiences. Sam and Dean both had listened to Steve and done as asked. They had worked well as a diving team. Dean was charismatic, attractive and intelligent as well as devoted and caring to the people working with him. It had made Steve very fond of Dean, perhaps too fond. He quickly had become a little over protective of Dean and his brother Sam because of this. Over time however, Dean stopped listening to any of Steve’s expert advice or Steve’s rules, and frequently did the exact opposite of what Steve asked. It often felt as if Dean did it on purpose to rile Steve up and this had flustered Steve to no end.

Now they were face to face, breathing each other’s air and the energy vibrating between them was reaching explosive levels. Their skin even tingled with it like it was a built up electrical charge. Steve was about to slug the man and send him overboard when he saw Dean’s eyes flick down to his lips.

“Why do you even have me on board then?” Steve rasped out. His body still tense.

Dean licked his lips while his eyes zeroed in purposely on Steve’s mouth. No other answer came until Dean surged forward abruptly, framed Steve’s face with his hands and kissed Steve firmly.

From there the tension between the two of them snapped, and suddenly instead of verbally pushing at each other, they were grabbing and reaching for each other. They yanked close, then closer as that first kiss flamed into something deeper and more exploring. They kissed and kissed, swallowing down any sounds the other made, pressing together like their lives counted on it.

When they finally eased up, panting and flushed, Dean leaned back just barely enough so he could look into Steve’s eyes.

“I’m… sorry. I’ve been…well… attracted to you since you set foot on this boat and…” Dean confessed softly.

“Did I create an unsafe distraction?” Steve quirked a brow up curiously. He nudged Dean’s cheek with his nose, and felt his heart in his chest jump at the thrill of touching Dean.

“Nah not…exactly. I just…” Dean sighed, “I feel…. It’s more than just wanting to get you into my bunk. It feels bigger than that somehow.”

Steve paused and looked at Dean, his cheeks warming. “I feel that way too.”

“It’s weird because I feel like I knew you before this. You joined the team and it really felt like a piece that had been missing was found.” Dean looked down almost shyly, “Pretty crazy huh Steve?”

“His name is not ‘Steve’.”

Both men looked up at the unknown voice, then looked around on-deck. They were still alone.

“His name’s not Steve. It’s Castiel.”

Dean shared a puzzled look with Steve and turned. The voice sounded like it was coming from overboard, from the water.

Dean and Steve both cautiously approached the solid rail on the starboard side of the boat and looked over.

What they saw there made them both gape with their eyes wide. They gripped the side of the boat with tense knuckles, disbelief on their faces.

There were eight mermaids floating in the water alongside the boat. Their skin was smooth and shiny as a dolphin’s, and their long hair slicked down wet over their dappled shoulders. They were looking directly at Dean and Steve with expressions that were a mix of odd fondness and exasperation.

“Wh…what?!” Dean croaked out.

“I said his name is Castiel.” One of the mermaids spoke, and she sounded annoyed as if Dean should know this information already.

Dean glanced at Steve, who was now vaguely pale and looked shocked.

“My… my birth certificate… the name on it says ‘Castiel.” Steve swallowed hard, “I stopped using that name when I joined the Navy and had it officially changed to Steve…”

Both men warily looked back at the mermaids.

“See?” The mermaid looked smug. “Now. What will you do with the Impala? We require knowledge of this.”

Dean made a weird half shrug nervously, “Uh… dry dock her for while… repair her? Research what we find on her…? I guess?”

The mermaids discussed something in short chirping sounds, then looked back at the divers. “Acceptable. But know this mortal, if you do this ship a disservice, harm her or disrespect her, her crew or her Captain in any way… we will come for you.”

“And we will eat you.” Another mermaid offered a little too gleefully.

“Wait, hold on!” Dean ignored the threat and reached out as if to stop them from leaving, even though there was over six feet of space between he and the surface of the water. Ideas were sparking in his head and it showed on his face. “Did you know the crew? Did you see the Impala sail? Did you know Captain Winchester?? What about his brother??”

The mermaids drew closer. “Yes, we knew them.” One said. “They saved the world.” Another said. “They hunted evil.” Still another said. “The Winchester brothers were good men, true and brave.” Each one spoke up now in turn, “Dean was a great Captain who protected his crew.” “Sam was clever and smart.” “Castiel was loyal and devoted.”

Dean Smith leaned on his arms and asked more questions, encouraging the mermaids to tell him more. Beside him Steve leaned down as well, fascinated as he listened.

The mermaids told them everything, leaving nothing out. They recounted how they had known John Winchester, how they had delivered his dead spirit’s wish to his sons. They told about Azazel the demon general and how the Winchesters had hunted him down. They told about how the Impala had been hidden away, sunk into the Skull’s Maw. They told them everything; all of it, talking long until after the sun began to sink on the horizon.

“When Dean turned eighty, he and the crew came here with Sam, Castiel, everyone. They sealed the Impala up with magic and laid her to rest below the waves, just as Castiel and John had done to hide her and keep her safe before.” A mermaid swept her hand through the water, gesturing to the ship deep below them.

“They wanted to protect her until others worthy of her would come along.” The first mermaid spoke. “We have stayed and watched over her all these many years.” She paused and then said, “You may have her, treat her well mortal.”

With that all the mermaids but one dove down below into the sea. The remaining one looked at Steve and then Dean before she said pointedly, “Castiel and Dean loved each other for the ages. You have a chance for this as well. Be good to each other.”

And then she was gone.

Dean looked over at Steve. His smile was all warm and inviting, his eyes dancing. “A love for the ages huh? Does that sound interesting to you, ‘Castiel’?”

Castiel hummed and took hold of Dean’s hand.

“It sounds like an amazing adventure Dean.”

 

 

**THE END**

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SINCERELY FOR YOUR SUPPORT AND FOR READING.
> 
> I appreciate it so very much!! This fic has taken me a very long time to finish, not because it was hard to write or because I fell out of love with it. Life kept throwing obstacles and challenges at me but finally... FINALLY... it's completed. 
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed the adventure!!
> 
> Thank you again and again for giving it a chance and reading!
> 
> May the wind always fill your sails when you need it, and may the waters of your life deliver you to love, joy and laughter. May all your treasures bring you good fortune and prosperity and may every adventure invigorate you in only good ways. 
> 
> Yo ho my pirating mates, see you on the main deck again soon!  
> -esh

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Supernatural and its original characters and themes are the property of The CW Network etc.


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